


The Sea at the End of a Cliff

by charlottelennox



Series: Beyond the Fence [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel)-centric, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Loki (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 09:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottelennox/pseuds/charlottelennox
Summary: Thor sighed again. "After everything we’ve been through - that you’ve been through - don’t you owe it to yourself to let yourself be with the people who love you?”Loki swallowed hard. “And who would that be, exactly?”__Set 1 year after Sanctuary. The settlement of New Asgard is thriving, and Loki has struck a deal with the government in order to pay for his crimes on Midgard. But things could always be better. Their arrival on Earth finds the Avengers scattered, SHIELD non-existent, and the Accords a constant hassle. Furthermore, Loki must adjust to everything Thor has established, try to find his place among his people and Thor's friends, and work with the government to eradicate the ever looming threat of Thanos.* * *Currently on hiatus.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, this takes place one year after Sanctuary. You do need to read that story first, or this one won't make much sense. The first chapter gives you pretty much all of the "notes" as far as filling in the gaps and telling you what you need to know about what's transpired within that year. More characters will appear, and I will update all tags accordingly as I post. Also, this completely ignores the existence of the Ragnarok post-credits scene as well as the entirety of Infinity War. Some elements from IW will probably be borrowed, but otherwise, it doesn't exist. :)

 

**I.  
**

 

Loki woke to total darkness.

There was a buzzing in the back of his head, a faint hum that he’d only noticed once he was locked away from noise, from sunlight, from time itself. It was always there now, that buzzing, only when he awoke it was accompanied by a throbbing behind his eyes.

It was so dark. Loki felt a chill underneath his skin and shuddered. He flicked his wrist. A green mage light shimmered into existence in the air above his cot, casting his cell in a faint jade hue. Then he carefully sat up, drew his knees to his chest, and pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead.

Even after all this time, the nightmares had not ceased. They were worse than ever.

Loki’s throat felt parched, and he wondered if he had been screaming. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid himself of the images that had haunted him mere moments ago. Pools of blood, anguished sobs, the stench of death. Bright blue eyes alight with madness, a sadistic grin in a lavender face. _Thanos._

Abruptly, Loki pushed himself to his feet. He walked over to one side of his cell, where the humans had oh-so-generously provided him with a water glass and a pitcher. They changed out the pitcher once a day and once a day only - once that day’s supply was gone, there would be no more.

Fortunately, these rules did not apply to Loki. He filled his glass to the brim and gulped down the icy water, and then filled it again and again, using his magic to replenish what he took. He drank until he felt like he was going to be sick, and only then did he drag in a breath and let it out again heavily, wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, and set the glass back down on the table.

There would be no returning to sleep tonight.

Unfortunately, there was nothing else to do.

Loki pushed his hands through his hair, clasping them together at the back of his neck as he began to pace. It was so quiet. The humans’ prison for “enhanced people” was the best (meaning, the _worst_ ) Midgard had to offer. It was a veritable fortress, sunk deep beneath the ocean off the coast of New York. Dangerous enhanced people went into the Raft, and they did not come back out again. Or so Loki heard.

Sometimes, he felt like he was going mad in this tiny, quiet little cell. Loki had given Thor his word that, if he were to turn himself in, it would be for keeps, until Thor could find a way to legally get him back out again. The American government had granted refuge and shelter to the Asgardian refugees, and in return, Asgard had given them the war criminal Loki. A small price, considering Loki had been prepared to face his consequences anyway, but they let the humans believe it was their idea.

He’d lost track of how much time had elapsed. Thor would not leave him in here to rot, Loki knew, but his patience was wearing quite thin.

The hardest part about it was that he could escape any time he wanted.

When they’d first brought him to the Raft, a man named General Ross had explained to Loki, in great detail, all of the reinforcements that had gone into the prison: walls built to withstand a force greater than the Hulk slamming into it, the strongest steel at the humans’ disposal barred over doorways made of six inch thick bulletproof glass.

“It sounds very impressive,” Loki had remarked, and Ross had sneered at him.

“I believe it will hold you just fine,” Ross had replied.

They’d wanted to put him into some kind of jacket with straps and loops and buckles, which would keep him confined in place even inside his solitary cell, but Thor would not stand for that, and Ross relented. Loki was free to wander back and forth in the cell and, the first night he was there, he came up with several means of escape.

He studied the door and pressed his palms flat against the glass. Tiny flickers of green light had sparked at his fingertips as he thought of a spell that would snap through the glass from the inside, cracks crawling out from the center like a spider web until the whole door shattered.

He pressed his head to the walls and closed his eyes, listening for the places where the air shifted differently, indicating hollow spots. If he pressed the force of his seiðr against those hollow spots, he could crumble the walls like ash.

He stood very still in the center of his cell, barely breathing, concentrating, until he located the dimensional folds where he could slip through time and space itself, and walk out the other side free.

Yes, Loki could certainly escape any time he wanted.

Of course, they knew Loki had magic at his disposal. Maybe two weeks  into his confinement, they had brought in the Midgardian wizard Loki and Thor had encountered once before, Stephen Strange. _Doctor_ _Stephen Strange_ , he’d introduced himself, emphasis on the doctor. _A doctor of what?_ Loki had asked, and Strange had replied, _a great many things_ , and Loki took his word for it, not particularly interested enough to inquire further. Ross wanted Strange to cast a binding spell on Loki to prevent him from using his seiðr.

“Is that really necessary?” Thor had asked, dismayed. “Loki has willingly turned himself in as a show of good faith toward recompense.”

“We realize that,” Ross had replied, “but we must take measures to ensure that he doesn’t change his mind.”

Loki had simply waved a hand, already bored. “If you must,” he had said graciously. Strange’s hackles were rising by the second. Later, Loki  learned that though Strange had gone to a lot of trouble to keep a low profile, he’d sought out Thor once he learned the Asgardians were on Earth. His concern was how much of a threat Loki posed. Some arguments and political nonsense later, and Stephen Strange was the newest to sign the Sokovia Accords, lending his expertise to the government.

It became a game for a few weeks. First, Dr. Strange tried casting binding spells on Loki’s cell, which were the easiest to break. Then, Dr. Strange put spells upon Loki’s person, which were more challenging but Loki was more determined to unravel them because he did not like the way it physically felt to have Strange’s seiðr crawling all over him. It was invasive and bothersome.

Finally, Dr. Strange enchanted a thick bracelet that Loki was made to wear, which would have effectively blocked his magic - if Loki were a mere novice. Loki had silently allowed Strange to fasten the bracelet around his bony wrist. He’d made a show of examining it from all angles, furrowing his brow, tightening his jaw. The spell was an advanced one, Loki would admit; he could feel the energy and strength of it pulsing and flowing through his body. It dampened Loki’s seiðr more than he would have liked.

It did not bind his magic completely, however. “When I was returned to Asgard,” Loki said conversationally, as Dr. Strange watched his movements, “Odin Allfather used the most powerful magics at his disposal to enchant my bindings. The Odinforce is unparalleled, even by the most advanced of seiðmaðrs.” As he spoke, he moved his hand around the bracelet and  and shimmer in green and gold.

Loki sat down on his bed and, carefully, began to pluck strands of magic from the bracelet, as if he were unraveling a ball of yarn. This would keep him occupied for a few hours, at least. “I made decent progress in trying to unbind Odin’s magic,” Loki went on, “but ultimately, I was not successful. _This_ spell, however … it’s advanced for a human, and for a novice, so I must commend you, but it will be easy to break. Tedious, but not challenging.”

Dr. Strange had pressed his thin lips together so tightly they disappeared but, if Loki was not mistaken, there was a flicker of respect in his eyes. “It seems,” he said evenly, as he watched Loki slowly unraveling the magic, “I should need more time to create a spell advanced enough for your expertise.”

“Yes, I believe you should,” Loki agreed pleasantly.

After that, Dr. Strange did not return. Thor, who’d grown bored with the entire thing once it became clear that it was no threat to Loki, simply said, “I told you.”

Loki tolerated all of this without complaint. What he would _not_ tolerate was the government’s interest in poking and prodding at him, wanting to take blood samples, hair samples, skin samples, brain scans, all manner of invasive tests and procedures. It was not often, Loki understood, that they had an Asgardian - or a Jotun, for that matter - at their disposal.

He could not fault them their curiosity, but nor would he abide by it. The first time they’d tried, Loki had practically taken the entire medical wing down and, when Thor was reached, Loki told him in no uncertain terms that if he stood by and allowed the humans to turn Loki into an experiment, Loki would disappear and would never speak to Thor again, even if they each lived to be five thousand years old.

“I will take care of it,” Thor had said simply.

And the humans left Loki alone.

He stayed in his cell. Three times a day, they slid a tray of food through a slot; once a day, they changed out the water pitcher. He was permitted to use the bathroom and shower twice a day, but he had to be very quick about it. Sometimes, if he asked, they gave him books, but the Midgardian offerings were paltry. Loki had books in his pocket dimension, and sometimes he conjured one or two up to keep himself occupied, but that seemed to bother the guards. Not that Loki cared, but he did not need them reporting to their superiors that Loki was anything less than a model prisoner.

If he played by the humans’ rules, he would be released sooner or later. Loki kept telling himself that.

He only hoped he was not wrong.

* * *

When Tony Stark came to see him, it was mid-morning, as far as Loki could guess. His morning meal had been delivered and eaten, and Loki had stopped pacing and moved on to exercising. When he’d been in the dungeons in Asgard, he’d come up with a routine that kept his muscles firm and limber, even confined as he was. He was upside down, focusing on balancing all of his weight on his palms, legs completely straight in the air, when Tony found him.

“Well, this is a sight,” Tony greeted. “Pilates?”

Loki did not flinch, though he did wish that the glass was soundproof as well as bulletproof. His gaze flicked upwards in acknowledgement. “Hello, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey there, Reindeer Games.” Tony tapped on the glass door of the cell. “Busy?”

“Yes, rather,” Loki said. “As you can see.”

“Well, this won’t take long. If you don’t mind.” Tony lifted his eyebrows a bit pointedly and Loki sighed. He let his body topple over halfway until his feet hit the floor and he gracefully pushed himself upright again. He felt a momentary dizziness, but he just shook it off and crossed over to his water pitcher.

“I’d offer you some refreshments,” Loki said, lifting his glass, “since you’ve made the trouble to visit my humble dwelling, but I’m afraid I don’t have much.”

The corner of Tony’s lips quirked. He often looked at Loki like that, Loki had noticed - as if Loki amused him, but he could not show it. “I’m good, thanks,” was all Tony said, with a wave of his hand.

Loki took a sip of his water, peering expectantly at Tony over the rim of the glass.

“Right, so, you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“The question crossed my mind, yes.” Thor was the only person permitted personal visits with Loki, and he was limited to once per week. Anyone else who saw Loki was there because the government sent them there, like General Ross or Dr. Strange. Tony Stark had only come once or twice before - since the Avengers had apparently collapsed in on themselves, Tony’s new role was that of a liaison between enhanced people and the governments seeking to bind them.

“As much as I enjoy your pretty face, not to mention the witty banter,” Tony said, “this isn’t a social call. I actually came to talk to you about getting you out of here.”

Loki’s nerves skittered, though he tried not to show any outward reaction. He set his water glass down on the table and clasped his hands behind his back. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Tony glanced over his shoulder at the heavily guards who were manning the central security station. They were never quite out of earshot, but Tony lowered his voice, anyway. “Be straight with me, Loki. How many ways have you come up with to escape?”

Loki blinked, his green eyes reflecting his confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Stark,” he answered in a voice so genuinely perplexed that even Loki believed he was telling the truth. “General Ross made it quite clear that this prison is safeguarded against even the most enhanced escape attempts. As Thor has assured me he is working on my legal release, I’ve seen no reason to try to test that.”

Tony snorted. “I hear they call you the god of lies,” he answered. “You don’t expect me to buy that load of bullshit you just tried to sell, do you?”

“I am not the god of anything,” Loki said, “nor am I being anything but as truthful as I can.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Tony sighed. “This place is Ross’s pet, you know? The prison to end all prisons, something he can use to threaten enhanced people with so they fall in line. Not everyone in here’s a criminal, you know.”

Loki had assumed as much, but said nothing. He just watched Tony, waiting for him to get to the point.

“He’s right about one thing, though,” Tony continued. “Nobody escapes. Not after Rogers broke out what used to be the Avengers. Ross took that as a personal insult. This place is tougher now. Impenetrable. But I imagine it’s more like a slightly advanced baby gate to you.”

Loki tilted his head. “Baby gate?”

“Nevermind. My point is, the fact that you’ve been here …. how long _have_ you been here?” Tony lifted an eyebrow.  

“It would be impossible for me to tell, since I am granted neither the sunlight nor a clock,” Loki returned, “but Thor says eleven of your months, give or take.”

Tony let out a low whistle. “Okay. Yeah. So, you’ve been here eleven months without even a hint of an escape attempt. Personally, I’m sure you’ve got about twelve ideas for attempts spinning around in that magical head of yours but your, uh, good behavior hasn’t gone unnoticed by the government.”

“So, my gesture of ‘good faith toward recompense’ has been recognized?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Tony exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. When Loki had last seen him, he’d been youthful and almost playful, despite his fear of Loki. And he _had_ been fearful - Loki did not remember much about those hazy, madness-filled days in New York, but he remembered the terror in Tony’s eyes right before Loki had flung him through his own window.

It was only six years ago, but those years had not been kind to Tony Stark. His features had grown taut and tired, lines etched around his eyes. His hair was graying just enough to be noticeable. Loki reflected that the years had not been so kind to himself or to Thor, either; in this, it seemed that gods and mortals were the same. Stress and grief would age them far more quickly than the passage of time ever could.

Loki remembered what Tony had said to him when the Asgardians had first arrived on Earth and Thor reached out for aid. The three of them had stood together, Tony and Loki sizing one another up while Thor looked nervously between the two. Then Tony had sighed and said, “Look, none of us are too quick to forget the hell you unleashed on us, least of all me. I can’t even begin to explain to you the toll it’s taken on this world. If I never saw you again, it’d be too soon. But Thor’s my friend, and I’ve lost too many of those lately. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, for _his_ sake. Get where I’m coming from?”

“I understand,” Loki had said simply.

And that was that.

Now, Tony looked at him with something like resignation, but there was no malice behind it. Loki very much doubted that Tony Stark would ever _forgive_ New York, but he seemed willing enough to move past it, and Loki had to appreciate that, at least.

Not that he would let it show. He kept his expression neutral, even as he fiddled with his hands behind his back, digging his thumbnail into his palm. “Does Thor know about this?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. He’s been pushing hard on your behalf. The thing is, though, nothing’s set in stone. It’s easier to hear it from me, I think, than to let your brother get your hopes up for nothing.”

“I see.” Loki was already feeling himself deflate. Still, he squared his shoulders. “So, what do I have to do?”

“You’re familiar with the Sokovia Accords, right?”

Loki shrugged and tilted his head a bit, as if to say, _more or less_. “Only what Thor has told me - that your world governments wish for enhanced humans to register themselves and play by the rules, as it were.”

“Right. The Accords hold all of us accountable, discourage vigilantism, that sort of thing. Gives us someone to answer to, especially since SHIELD bit the dust.”

Loki’s lips quirked. “Thor seems to believe that you are not as entirely in agreement with these Accords as you sound now.”

“Thor tells you everything?”

“Thor tells me most things,” Loki admitted. “Perhaps not everything. As I do him. Our relationship is much repaired, Mr. Stark, since we knew you last.”

Tony gave Loki a measuring look, considering that. “Bruce said as much,” he conceded. “I guess you guys really bonded over that whole Ragnarok adventure, huh?”

“Among other things.” Some weeks or months, Loki did not remember, after their arrival on Earth, Bruce Banner had returned from his Hulk form. It was Loki’s understanding that Bruce had joined Thor in vouching for Loki’s changed heart.

“Hmm.” Tony shrugged. “Well, be that as it may, I’m here to talk to you on behalf of the government, not as a friend. My personal feelings on the Accords are, frankly, none of your damn business.”

Loki held up his hands. “I meant no offense.”

A muscle in Tony’s jaw moved. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a breath. “Okay. Sorry. Anyway, here’s what Ross wants from you: a testimony.”

“Testimony,” Loki repeated cautiously.

“On the Battle of New York. He wants the complete unabridged version - who sent you, where you got the scepter, what you know about the mind stone. Things like that.”

A few beats passed while Loki narrowed his eyes. “What makes you - or Ross - think anyone sent me?”

“Thor might have mentioned it.”

Ah. Loki closed his eyes, exhaling a breath through his nose. “Let me rephrase that,” he said, when he opened his eyes again. Tony was watching him somewhat curiously. “What makes you trust that anything I tell you will be the truth?”

Tony’s shoulders rose and fell. He was an imposing figure in his metal suit, but in his simple, Midgardian attire, he seemed very small. “Good faith, I suppose. The hope that you’ll want to be truthful in exchange for release. Legal release. You can live with your people in New Asgard without the government breathing down your neck.”

“Mm.” On the one hand, Loki did want that very much. It seemed like a relatively small price to pay for freedom - in theory. In reality, his palms were already sweating at the thought of having to tell Tony Stark - having to tell _anyone_ \- about Thanos.

He pressed his lips together into a thin line, considering.

“Oh, and you’ll have to sign the Accords, of course,” Tony added, as if it were an afterthought.

That, Loki was not expecting. He felt his lips curve into a smile, one made of mockery rather than mirth. “Why? I am not an enhanced human, Mr. Stark.”

“No,” Tony agreed, “you’re worse.”

Perhaps, Loki had been mistaken in his earlier belief that Tony seemed willing to move on from New York. “It seems rather pointless to me,” Loki said. “I’m not a vigilante, either.”

Tony folded his arms over his chest, regarding Loki with cool brown eyes. His gaze told Loki that there was a reason the government wanted Loki’s name on the Accords, and it had nothing to do with preventing vigilantism. Whatever it was, Tony did not say. After a beat, he exhaled a short breath. “Those are the terms, Reindeer Games. Or you can sit in here until we’re all dead. Makes no difference to me.”

It made a great deal of difference to Loki. Irritation flared through him, like tiny ants digging themselves under his skin. Were he not concerned with the promise he’d made to Thor, Loki would walk right out of the Raft at that moment, simply to prove a point. He was not _beholden_ to these humans, to this government. They were like the tiniest flickering flame on a candle - with just a bit of a breeze, or time, they’d burn out as if they never existed at all. In a hundred years, they would all be dead and forgotten while Loki would live on with his people.

He owed the humans _nothing_ , least of all his soul laid bare in front of them while they picked apart the truth of the horrors that still haunted his dreams.

Loki closed his eyes again, drawing in a deep breath. He forced himself to remember that he did owe the humans recompense for the lives he’d taken, that he’d willingly agreed to pay it for the sake of easing his own remorse for New York.

This was not a price he’d thought he’d have to pay. But if it meant leaving this wretched prison and his crimes behind, so that he could join his people in starting anew …

Loki would figure out a way to turn it to his advantage. He always did.

“So be it,” Loki said, and opened his eyes. “I will agree to your terms, Mr. Stark.”

Tony jerked his head in one quick nod, and then jammed his hands into his pockets. “Good. Great. We’ll get a legal team in here, make it all official-like. All goes well, you should be out of here in a few days.”

That, at least, was something.

* * *

“How is Brunnhilde?” asked Loki, once Thor had been let inside of his cell by the guards. Thor was the only visitor permitted to enter the cell, and Loki did not know how Thor had earned that privilege, but he was grateful for it. Though the cells were not soundproof,  they could at least sit close, speak in low tones, touch. It was comforting to Loki, in a way that he craved in the long, dull stretches between his brother’s visits.

Thor sat down on the edge of Loki’s bed, his knee brushing against Loki’s. “Brunnhilde is good,” he responded, giving Loki a smile tinged with sympathy. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a slightly wrinkled envelope, which had Loki’s name scrawled across the front. “She misses you.”

Loki accepted the letter without responding. He fingered the edges, imagining Brunnhilde’s hands smoothing the paper inside, carefully folding up her words to him. Since Loki had gone into the Raft, these letters - exchanged weekly via Thor - were their only contact.

She’d started referring to herself by her real name rather than her title maybe a month or so after the Asgardians’ arrival on Earth. _We’re all starting anew,_ she’d written to Loki. _Time to stop running from the past. I’m not a Valkyrie anymore, or a scrapper. I am simply me, and anything else I am to be from this point on, I will be in my own name. I’ve spent too long without it._

Loki tucked the letter away so that he could give it his full attention later, and handed his own letter to Thor, which Thor put in his pocket to deliver when he returned to New Asgard. “She said so?” Loki asked.

Thor rolled his eyes. He now wore a prosthetic instead of the eye patch, a perfect replacement for the one he’d lost on Asgard, gifted to him by Tony Stark’s technological assets.

“She didn’t have to,” Thor responded, “but yes, she did. Said specifically to tell you that she misses you, and that without you in her life, the sun shines a little less brightly, the flowers are a little more wilted, and the glow of the moon is clouded by the vast emptiness your absence has left her with.”

“You liar.”

Thor laughed, reaching over and ruffling Loki’s hair a bit. “Okay, I made all of that up. But she did say she misses you, and that she looks at her orange every night, whatever that means.”

 _That_ , she may have really said. Neither Brunnhilde nor Loki had ever told Thor about the orange he’d gifted her, illusioned into a baubled replica of Asgard’s night sky. It had been just a trick, but Brunnhilde later admitted she cherished the thing, which turned it into something special between them.

“Oh,” was all Loki said.

Thor gave Loki’s shoulder a squeeze. Somehow, he seemed to know that Loki craved physical attention, even if Loki never outright asked for it. “Worry not, brother,” he said. “Tony said he saw you a couple of days ago. He told you about Ross’s offer, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Loki replied, leaning a bit into Thor’s touch before he remembered that he was irritated with Thor. He straightened again and gave Thor a withering look. “You shouldn’t have told them about Thanos.”

Thor sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. He seemed to be letting it grow again; it flopped about in dark blonde waves, barely touching the tips of his ears. It made him look younger. “I had to,” he responded, a bit defensively. “They weren’t budging on releasing you, Loki. I could talk to them about rehabilitation all day, but the humans are stubborn. They only remember the destruction and the death and the chaos.”

“I could have escaped,” Loki pointed out, getting to his feet. He folded his arms, absently scratching at his biceps. The ugly blue and white prisoner’s uniform he wore could be terribly itchy - more so when he was agitated. “If they wouldn’t release me.”

“Yes, but where would you have gone?” Thor retorted. “Not New Asgard. It’d be the first place they’d search and watch over. Even if you shrouded yourself somehow, you’d always be looking over your shoulder.”

“New Asgard isn’t the only place in the universe,” Loki said, digging his nails harder into his biceps.

“It’s the only place I want you.” Thor sighed. “Loki, I just got you back. I’m not willing to watch you disappear to Norns know where, not knowing if you’re safe, or in danger, or lonely …”

There was a strange tightening in Loki’s throat as he stared at Thor. “How sentimental,” he finally managed, and though his voice was brittle, it was not with contempt. He sounded rather young to his own ears. “I can take care of myself, Thor.”

“I know you can.” Thor sighed again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. “I don’t want you to have to. After everything we’ve been through - that _you’ve_ been through - don’t you owe it to yourself to let yourself be with the people who love you?”

Loki swallowed hard. “And who would that be, exactly?”

“Uh, me,” Thor said, looking at Loki as if he were stupid. “Brunnhilde. Dagny. Our people. You are still a prince of Asgard, Loki, whether you admit it or not. You are beloved of the people you saved and we all want you home.”

A muscle twitched in Loki’s jaw. He was holding himself very rigidly, and did not notice how deeply he was digging his nails into his arms until Thor got up and crossed over to him, gently pulling Loki’s hands away. Then he cupped Loki’s neck in one hand in the old, familiar gesture. Loki’s vision grew blurry, but Thor simply leveled him with an even stare.

“If we’re to be together,” Thor said, “then this is the only way. You don’t have to tell them everything, Loki. Just enough to satisfy them. Then you will be released, and we can finally start over again. A fresh start.”

Loki exhaled, blinking rapidly. He dropped his gaze. He knew Thor was right, that this was the only way, but Norns, how he wished it wasn’t so. “Will you be there?” he asked, his voice barely audible. He searched Thor’s eye, waiting for inexplicable rejection and finding none. “When I have to tell them.”

“Absolutely.” Thor gave Loki’s neck a gentle squeeze, and then released him.

“Promise.” Loki knew he sounded desperate, and for once he didn’t care.

“I promise.” Thor spoke with the authority not of a king, but of an older brother who would travel to the ends of the universe to protect the younger one from harm - without question. Loki’s heart gave a throb with the painful reminder of how _good_ Thor was, and how much Loki did not deserve him.

Loki gave a curt nod, and stepped back a bit. He quickly brought his hands to his face to rub his eyes, wanting to get rid of any evidence of tears, even though Thor had already seen them. He heard Thor moving and when he dropped his hands, Loki saw that his brother had sat down on the bed again. He patted the space beside him and, after only a moment’s hesitation, Loki joined him.

“Now,” Thor said, “let us think ahead rather than dwell on the past. It will do you good to be out of this prison - you don’t look so well, Loki.”

It was Loki’s own opinion that he never looked particularly well, but still, he shrugged. “I haven’t seen the sun in a year,” he responded dryly. “I don’t imagine it’s done wonders for my healthy glow.”

“You’ve never had a healthy glow a day in your life,” Thor said with a somewhat forced grin, “but you don’t always look so … ill. Are you eating enough? Sleeping?”

Inevitably, this conversation came up each time Thor visited. Loki knew that the long months had taken their toll on him. It wasn’t only the lack of sunlight or sleep - it was the sheer drudgery of day in and day out with nothing more mentally or emotionally stimulating than a few books here and there could provide. It was something of a miracle that his mind hadn’t slipped back into madness, considering.  “I am eating everything they provide for me,” Loki replied, “and sleeping when my thoughts permit.”

“We both know that means you aren’t sleeping much at _all_ .” Thor sighed. “Let alone _enough_.”

“It’s all right.” Loki offered a small smile. “When I am out, I will sleep and eat to my heart’s content.”

“Which also isn’t much at all,” Thor pointed out, but he smiled back. A moment later, the smile disappeared and Loki glimpsed the shadows beneath his brother’s eyes. Thor did his best to be cheerful and optimistic when he visited Loki, but Loki knew the pressures that Thor was under, and that they could not be easier to bear without Loki to share them. He had Heimdall and Brunnhilde, of course, and Loki supposed Sif, too, but a council of four was hardly a council at all.

“How fares New Asgard?” Loki asked.

“More or less the same,” Thor replied. “Challenging as always, but we’re holding our own. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Please, brother.” Loki threw him a tired and mildly irritated look. “What else do I have to occupy my thoughts?”

Thor’s mouth twisted in something between a smile and a grimace. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “For the most part, things are still pretty smooth. The weather is turning cold again, and we might be in for a rough winter, but our crops have been flourishing and our people work hard.”

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with the crops, of course,” Loki said, nudging his shoulder against Thor’s. Thor made such a show of his lightning and thunder that most people forgot he was also of the earth and soil. Fertility flowed just as strongly through his veins as the raging storms. Sometimes, Loki suspected that even Thor forgot.

Thor just grinned. “Of course. Midgard has all manner of markets and resources, but the more we can do for ourselves, the better. Asgard is meant to be a protector of the realms, not a drain on them.”

“Yes, but we did go through an apocalypse,” Loki reminded him.

“Regardless, it is only Midgard’s goodwill that has kept us afloat. Asgardian  money is worthless without an economy to support it, but we cannot build an economy without producing our own goods. Hence, the crops. Among other things. We have two taverns now,” Thor finished proudly.

“Wow. _Two?_ ” Loki’s eyes widened.“Careful, brother - we wouldn’t want to overdo it.”

“Oh, shut up.” But Thor didn’t look too annoyed. Truthfully, Loki was just being a pain because he _could_ \- it really was an accomplishment that the former refugees were getting businesses up and running again, going back to their jobs, starting fresh.

When they had first arrived on Midgard, New Asgard had been little more than a tent city in upstate New York, not very far from the Avengers compound. Loki was not there very long before he was sent to the Raft, but at some point, the government had gifted Asgard with a very large plot of land further upstate.

With what resources the government was willing to provide, along with help from Tony Stark himself, the past year had seen the tent city grow into what could arguably be called a small town. The people lived in little houses, each identical to the one beside it. Thor had showed Loki pictures on his little device, and though the houses looked rather drab, all painted in the same shade of beige, there was something idyllic and appealing about the paved streets and little mailboxes and patches of thick green grass.

In addition to the houses, New Asgard had added its own marketplace, a clothing shop, a rather large infirmary, and now, two taverns. Soon enough, the little town of New Asgard, with its own economy, would thrive.

“You’re a good king,” Loki said impulsively, and then he had to look at his hands rather than at Thor’s face, for the unexpected burst of sentiment embarrassed him.

The surprise was evident in Thor’s voice, but so was his pleasure. “I’m glad you think so,” he replied. He slung his arm around Loki’s shoulders and pulled him close, and this time, Loki didn’t resist.

* * *

 

**  
**


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki reads Brunnhilde's letter, and General Ross comes calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to update once a week, but life and other fics got away from me. Therefore, this chapter is pretty short compared to what I intended it to be, but I'm tossing it out there as a gesture of good update faith anyway. Thank you all so much for your support and comments on the previous chapter, I appreciate it more than I can say.

 

**II.  
**

 

The cell felt even smaller and  emptier after Thor was gone. Loki curled up on his bed and unfolded Brunnhilde’s letter. For several moments, he simply ran his fingers over the runes scribbled in Brunnhilde’s slightly messy hand. He imagined her fingers scrawling the lines, thinking of _him_ with every scratch of the pencil. There were several pages, front and back, which made Loki smile.

She always began her letters with _Loki, my love._ Each time he read those words, something warm took hold in the space just behind his ribs, pleasant enough that he craved more but also sharp enough that he feared the inevitable pierce of it through his heart. Joy and pain were so closely entwined that Loki had never managed to figure out where one ended and the other began.

_Loki, my love, New Asgard is progressing and though each day brings new challenges, we are all adapting very well._

She always followed a pattern in her letters: she began with the mundane details of New Asgard, as if she knew he wanted to know and yet they both wanted to get it out of the way - things like how they were faring on a day to day basis, anything political she thought might interest him, developments on the progress they were making in establishing themselves as a real city. She mentioned the second tavern, which made Loki snort.

Once those things were out of the way, she moved into the more personal matters. She told him how Thor was _really_ doing (especially if it had been a hard week and she knew Thor himself wouldn’t tell Loki honestly if he was exhausted or worried).

She talked about how Dagny was doing and what new Midgardian thing had caught her interest recently. For the last two months, Dagny had been fascinated with everything about automobiles, from how the engines worked to what colors they came in. This week, Brunnhilde told him that Dagny was beyond frustrated that she couldn’t drive. _She knows how, of course,_ Brunnhilde wrote, and Loki could practically _see_ her rolling her eyes, _it’s not that complicated, but she doesn’t understand that on Midgard, there are rules about it. Age and everything. Technically she’s much older than the minimum age, but - well. It’s still different. For now, I’ve just told her to ask again when she can reach the pedals on her own. She’s been sulking ever since._

After Thor and Dagny were covered, Brunnhilde mentioned others - Bruce had won some sort of science recognition from what he’d published so far of his experience and findings on Deaphus, which made Loki roll his eyes. Heimdall was taking his duties as Gatekeeper of New Asgard very seriously, but because the humans were not any kind of threat, he kept his gaze outward, on Asgard’s enemies, on the Kree, on the remaining Nine Realms. _The Kree seem to be having troubles of their own and we are of little concern to them, which is a continued relief,_ Brunnhilde wrote. _Makes us all feel a bit safer. We’ve recruited several of those who wish to train in combat, but we are a long way yet from having a real military again. Another thing Thor worries about, but all we can do is what we can do._

After that, Brunnhilde moved on to some of her own thoughts about Midgard. _It’s so very strange and so different from anywhere I’ve been before. Even after all these months, I still find myself struggling to adapt. You told me once how fascinating you found it that the humans move so fast, constantly changing, as if they’re trying to cram every last ounce of living they possibly can into their short lives. It’s true. Life moves so fast for them, they’re constantly playing catch-up, but what’s most interesting is that they don’t even realize how much living they miss simply for lack of not stopping to look around once in awhile._

And, from there, she’d segue so smoothly into the best part of the letters, the most intimate part, that Loki almost didn’t even realize it until he was already drawn into her words, letting them brush against the hollow places so many months without her had left inside of him. _I look at this place and the strange beauty of it and it baffles me how much they take for granted without even knowing it. Like snow. It’s been so long since I’ve seen snow, I forgot what it looked like - Sakaar isn’t exactly a “winter wonderland,” as the humans would say. When it snows here, it falls so thick and wet and cold, it blankets everything, and for a few hours, the humans leave it alone. They let it fall. And it’s so beautiful - how everything you’ve gotten used to looking at transforms into something else, something shiny and new. It sparkles. I feel like I could look at it for hours, for days._

_But the snow stops falling, and the sun comes out, and the humans - it’s an inconvenience to them. They have what they call snow plows and they’re big cars that push all the snow off the roads so the humans can drive to their jobs or the children can ride on the bus to school. They push all the snow to the side, and it gets dirty and gray and it freezes and they step over it like it’s not even there when they walk. They never even look up. They’re playing games or setting up meetings or ordering a pizza. They’re gossiping with their friends about television. They complain that it’s cold, complain about the mud and salt stuck to their boots._

_And that is life to them. Day in and out. Normal. They have no real concept of a world outside of their own; they’re too caught up in what’s ugly about this one. Individually, they’re not so bad, of course. I like Thor’s friends. They do see things. But as a whole … I can’t help but think that it’s a kindness to their species that they only have about ninety years, that they’re here and gone again in the blink of an eye. Like their footprints in the snow, how they get kicked and stepped on and covered up again. They don’t know any better. I know you understand what I mean._

Loki read the last part over and over again, until the lines all blurred together and he had to lower the paper. _I know you understand what I mean._

Brunnhilde was not overly demonstrative when it came to expressing her feelings. The intimacy of her letter wasn’t in flowery words about how much she missed him, how her nights were filled with dreams about him and her days were filled with longing for him. Anybody could say that and they would just be pretty words on a page.

What was intimate about it was her revealing these things she thought, things she would never tell anyone _else_ that she thought, knowing that she could be candid and reflective and that Loki would understand because they were the same.

That was how she loved him - she revealed the parts of herself meant for no one else, showing him implicitly that it was safe for him to do the same. She carved them out of her core and presented them to him untouched and raw and the more she showed him, the more he wanted of it. The more he gave in return.

 _I know you understand what I mean_ was, for Brunnhilde and for these letters, _I love you._

Loki traced a finger over the looping runes of her signature, his heart full. He brought the paper to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss against the page, right where her name was etched. _Brunnhilde._ Then he folded up the paper, put it back in the envelope and, with the faintest flicker of green light, tucked it away in his pocket dimension where he knew it would be safe. Like all the others.

* * *

It was another week before General Ross finally arrived at the Raft. “Today just might be your lucky day,” was his greeting to Loki, who simply tilted his head and gazed at him without blinking.

“Hello, General,” he said politely.

Ross cracked under the weight of Loki’s stare. He averted his gaze after only a moment. “I know you’ve spoken to Stark and to your brother, so you may have some idea why I’m here.”

“I’d rather you tell me why you’re here, and what exactly you want from me,” Loki replied, “rather than rely on hearsay.”

“I’m sure you would.” Ross clasped his hands behind his back. He met Loki’s gaze, but where Loki maintained the eye contact, Ross’s flickered elsewhere every few seconds. “I’m here today, along with my team, to discuss, agree upon, and finalize the conditions of your release. If we’re successful and can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, then you’ll be leaving the Raft and into the conditional custody of the government of New Asgard.”

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Conditional? What sort of conditions might those be?”

“We will discuss the details,” Ross replied. He turned and gestured toward a guard who came over to work the complicated series of computerized commands that would unlock the cell door. As soon as the lock beeped to signal it was open, several other guards swarmed out of the shadows, as if out of nowhere. Ross had a flair for the dramatic, Loki thought, as he glanced around at the half dozen heavily armed guards who were closing in to encase Loki in metal.

Cuffs around his ankles. Around his wrists, around his waist. Reinforced steel, used to restrain humans with enhanced strength. Loki might still be able to break from them, but he had no reason to try. He simply allowed the cuffs to be fastened around his body as if he was an animal and tried not to think of how reminiscent it was of being bound and led into Odin’s throne room for judgment.

When the guards were finished, Loki looked back at Ross. He looked both suspicious and irritated at the same time, which was quite a feat for someone whose face seemed to normally have only one expression - disdain.

“My lucky day, indeed, General,” Loki said.

Ross snorted and turned on his heel. “Follow me,” he said, which Loki supposed was directed to the guards rather than him. They flanked around him, weapons at the ready.

From his cell, the Raft was small and confined, but once they were off his floor, it opened wide. They rode an elevator up a few floors, and when they got out, Ross led them down a hallway to a set of double doors, beyond which was a conference room. Ross entered first, and the guards fell back enough for Loki to walk in behind him.

Loki saw Thor immediately. Thor had been standing with his arms folded, talking to a dark haired woman, but when the door opened he turned and his eyes lit up. He smiled encouragingly, leaned over to whisper something to the woman, and then approached.

“Brother,” he greeted. A sudden wave of inexplicable sadness and loneliness washed over Loki, and he was ashamed of how much he wanted Thor to hug him at that moment. Thor didn’t, but he reached out and squeezed Loki’s shoulder instead.

“Hello, Thor,” Loki said quietly, and then looked around to take in the rest of them.

There were five others in the room besides Thor, Loki, and Ross, plus a man in the corner who was surrounded with recording devices and a large black laptop. Loki met Tony Stark’s eyes; Tony just nodded at him in acknowledgement if not quite a greeting. They’d all turned to him when the door closed behind him, and there was a space of a few seconds when the air seemed to freeze completely with the chill of their collective hostility. Not even Thor’s supportive demeanor could slice through it.

Loki straightened his shoulders and met the silence head on.

“Why don’t we all have a seat,” Ross suggested, and the moment passed. He led Loki, chains clinking, to a seat at one end of the table, and the rest of them followed suit. Thor sat on Loki’s right, moving his chair just a bit closer, enough to make it clear whose side he was on. Ross was the only one who didn’t sit; he walked to the opposite end of the table from Loki and popped open a briefcase that was there, beginning to pull out and shuffle papers as he spoke.

“Before we start, you should know that everything said here will be recorded and transcribed,” Ross stated with a brief nod toward the man in the corner. “I’ll begin by introducing my team for today. Obviously you’ve met Mr. Stark, our Accords Liaison.”

Ross gestured with a sheath of papers at each person around the table.

The older man in a military uniform seated next to Tony: “Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, United States Air Force.”

A blonde woman: “Secretary Sarah Collins, Department of Homeland Security.”

The dark-haired woman Thor was talking to and the large dark-skinned man beside her:  “Director Alphonso MacKenzie and Agent Daisy Johnson of SHIELD.”

It was all very official, their various titles, their sharply pressed uniforms and suits, the way they were all deliberately expressionless. The man in the corner, Loki supposed, was not important enough to merit introduction.

“I was under the impression that SHIELD no longer existed,” Loki remarked.

Johnson narrowed her eyes, but before she could speak, her companion cut in smoothly. “SHIELD as it was no longer exists,” said Mackenzie. “We’re a smaller operation now.”

Loki glanced at Thor, who just shrugged.

“SHIELD - the new SHIELD - has been an invaluable asset to the government and to the Avengers in the past year,” Tony filled in.

Loki made a hum of acknowledgement.

“Yes, we’ve made quite a team these last months,” Ross said as he finally sat down. He grouped his papers together and tapped them against the table to straighten them, and then gave Loki a smile that was just-this-side of condescending. “Now. Let’s begin, shall we?”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the later chapters, there will be spoilers for Agents of SHIELD through the season 5 finale. It's been awhile since it aired but just to be on the safe side. However, if you don't watch Agents of SHIELD (which is where Daisy and Mack are from), don't worry; any pertinent background information from the show will be explained in the narrative, so (hopefully!) you won't be lost. 
> 
> Comments are the lights of my life. <3


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki, a lying liar who lies, Tells All.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was meant to show Loki's return to New Asgard, but the interrogation went on for so long that I had to cut myself off. He'll get there eventually, I promise.

 

**III.**

Tony called it a _deposition_ , but it felt more like an _interrogation_ \- that was, the former was simply a process of collecting the facts, whereas the latter was a process of trying to prove guilt or blame. In an interrogation, they not only wanted answers, they wanted the _right_ answers. The accused had to say exactly the right things to tell them what they wanted to hear.

No one ever believed the accused, of course, if he said he did not have the answers. Then, the accused was accused twice over - of being guilty, and of _lying_ about it.

Certainly, Loki was no stranger to lying. His entire life had been built on lies. There were the lies he created, learning to trick and manipulate others with honey-soaked words and charming smiles. Then there were the lies he was told by Odin - _and by Frigga,_ a traitorous voice whispered in his mind - about who he was, where he’d come from, to what his birth entitled him. He was the god of lies two-fold, but no one ever considered the latter.

It was just as well, he supposed.

He was no stranger to interrogations, either. He remembered the questions Ebony Maw would ask him, questions to which he had no answer, for he was guilty of nothing, and then the pain would start. Soon enough, Loki figured out that the crime he’d committed was not being indoctrinated to the word of Thanos; Loki still thought for himself after arriving in the Sanctuary, and that simply would not do.

Soon enough, he learned the correct answers for Maw.

It only brought about new pain, from Thanos himself.

Loki shuddered.

“State your name, please,” General Ross said after he’d gone through a sweeping overview of what sorts of questions he would ask and to make it plainly clear, several times, that he expected, “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Which God?” Loki asked. Thor kicked him under the table - which _hurt_ , but Loki refrained from scowling at him - and Ross already looked fully willing to toss Loki back in his cell. At this rate, it would be a long afternoon.

“Let’s just get on with it,” Thor said.

General Ross shifted in his seat and fixed his steely stare on Loki. “State your name, please,” he repeated.

“I am Loki of Asgard.”

“Surname?” General Ross folded his hands on the table. “Loki _what_ of Asgard?”

Aesir didn’t use surnames the way humans did - they simply called themselves sons or daughters of their fathers. Loki, of course, had no father - Laufey had sired him, nothing more, and Odin had rejected and imprisoned him. He’d tried to make something resembling amends, in the end, and that was not nothing, but nor was it enough for Loki to reclaim himself as of belonging to the house of Odin.

“Not _Odinson_ , as Thor is Odinson?” Ross prompted, when Loki remained silent.

Loki could feel Thor’s gaze on him. He cleared his throat, made his tone bored. “If you think you know the answer, why ask at all?”

“We need to hear it from you.”

“You should have done your research, General,” Loki replied. “Certainly, Thor has told you I am adopted?”

“Yes, but you were raised as Odin’s son, second prince of Asgard. Were you not?”

“That means nothing,” Loki said, and he could not help the note of bitterness that crept into his voice. He was more at peace with his true roots now, but he would never be over it completely - the lie of it all, the betrayal and the rage. “I am merely Loki of Asgard. I have no surname.”

General Ross opened his mouth and then seemed to think better of it. He made a low humming noise in his throat instead, likely deciding it was easier to just move on. “Very well. Loki of Asgard. How old are you?”

“Why is that relevant?”

Someone - Agent Johnson, guessing from the direction it came from - sighed very loudly.

“Just answer the question, please.”

Loki shifted in his seat, making a point of noisily adjusting his chains. “I don’t know. Time passes differently on Asgard. Certainly, I am several of your centuries old. Nine or ten, I imagine.”

Even though the man in the corner was dutifully recording everything, as well as typing very quickly on a keyboard, the others were taking notes on their own little pads of paper. Loki saw Rhodes’s eyebrows go up a little at that response, but he didn’t look up from scribbling on his paper. “So, you are nine or ten hundred years old?” General Ross asked.

Loki nodded.

“Please answer verbally. For the record,” General Ross requested.

“Yes, that is correct,” Loki said, throwing an irritated glance at the recording devices (and the unfortunate man in charge of them) in the corner. The man flinched visibly, but his fingers did not stop moving.

Oh, yes. It would be a very long afternoon, indeed.

* * *

“What is the Tesseract?” Tony Stark asked, after about twenty minutes of similar pointless trivialities. “In your own words.”

“The Tesseract was just a vessel. At its core exists an infinity stone,” Loki said simply.

“Okay. An infinity stone being …” Collins prompted.

“A source of absolute power,” Loki told him. “Six exist in total.”

“Where did they come from?” asked Mackenzie.

“They came from the universe itself.”

Ross made a face. “What does that mean?”

“It means just what I said, General. Before time, before existence itself, the cosmics created a singularity of pure, absolute power over everything existence _is._ When the universe was born, the singularity broke and scattered into six parts. These are the infinity stones. The stone inside the Tesseract was the space stone - that is, it controls the fabric of space. Any being powerful enough to wield its true power could use it to teleport anywhere in the universe, in an instant. A snap of the fingers.”

A brief silence set over them as they wrote furiously on their papers. Loki glanced at Thor, who was looking back at him with a strange expression.

“What?” Loki asked.

Thor just shook his head, but his eyes said, _later._

“Who taught you the power of the infinity stones?” asked Johnson, looking up from her paper.

Loki stared evenly back at her.

“Thanos.”

* * *

“Why send the infinity stones across the universe?” Tony asked, awhile later, once they’d all finally seemed to grasp what the infinity stones were. “Why not keep them together?”

What a stupid question. “If the infinity stones are all kept together, ripe for the picking, it would be laughably easy for any cosmic entity to take them for their own purposes. Not many in the universe who are powerful enough to use them would do so with good intentions, Mr. Stark.”

“Any cosmic entity,” Collins repeated pointedly. “Like Thanos?”

“Yes. Like Thanos.”

“What exactly do you mean by cosmic entity?” Mackenzie interjected. He looked at Loki with an arched brow, his expression somewhere between skepticism and wariness. He had the look of a man who didn’t want to believe in the universe beyond his own backyard, but had seen enough to know what horrors lurked at the periphery.

“ _Powerful_ entities. God-like entities,” Loki said. “Some are older than the universe. All are very hard or impossible to kill. Thanos is the latter. Or so I’ve heard.”

“And where is the Tesseract now?” Ross asked, brushing over the topic of Thanos in order to return the conversation to the Tesseract. “Is there any possibility that a cosmic - or Thanos - might follow its trail back to Earth?”

“That would be impossible,” Loki said easily. “The Tesseract was destroyed on Asgard.”

Thor’s shoulders stiffened.

“It was destroyed on Asgard,” General Ross repeated.

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “You sound doubtful, General.”

General Ross lifted one shoulder, making a show of flipping back a few of his pages. “Well if, as you said, these infinity stones are the most powerful things in the universe, then surely one couldn’t be destroyed as easily as that, could it?”

“Surely,” Thor cut in, but his voice was dripping with such quiet fury that Loki looked over at him in surprise. Thor’s brow was furrowed, his real eye darkened with the strength of his anger. “It could not be destroyed as _easily_ as a hell demon being unleashed upon a kingdom thousands upon thousands of years old and _obliterating_ it until it was nothing but rocks and ash.”

Rhodes cleared his throat as he and Tony exchanged a glance. “I’m sure Ross didn’t mean -” Rhodes began.

“I’m quite sure he did,” Thor responded. “I mean you no disrespect, General Ross, but you cannot possibly hope to understand the gravity of Ragnarok and how much crumbled to dust under its wrath. The Tesseract was destroyed, and my brother is being cooperative with you. Have care not to show such disrespect again.”

If Loki had not had so much control over his facial features, he was certain his mouth would have been hanging open. He felt shock burrowing down to his bones.  His knees went weak and his throat went dry and for one, horrifying moment he thought he was going to cry - because Thor _knew_ Loki was lying, he _knew_ that the Tesseract hadn’t been destroyed at all, but not only did he let the lie pass, he _defended_ it. He spoke out for Asgard, yes, but what he was really doing was putting his own honor on the line for the sake of Loki’s, and Loki could not remember the last time that had happened.

It hit him with startling clarity that it had _never_ happened before, and then Loki’s eyes did grow bright, though he blinked quickly and made sure that he was otherwise expressionless.

Johnson cleared her throat, the sound breaking through the tense silence that had fallen in the wake of Thor’s words. “Should we move on?” she asked, her tone clipped and flat. Her expression was more or less neutral, but animosity was radiating off of her in waves, stronger than anyone else in the room.

“Yes,” General Ross said, and echoed Johnson’s throat-clearing. He shifted his papers for a few moments too long, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze. Being chastised by the god of thunder had - momentarily at least - taken him down a couple of pegs, which only made the whole thing that much sweeter. “Tell us more about Thanos.”

His name should not have sounded so dispassionate, should not be uttered from the lips of a man so ordinary and trite. Something about it felt wrong, but Loki did not dwell. He was quiet, adjusting himself in his chair again, looking around the table at the evidence of the day’s exhaustion. Paper coffee cups had piled up, Tony managing an impressive three. Johnson and Collins had ink-stains on their fingers from their pens, and Mackenzie had filled up so many pages that he was running out of them on his pad. Rhodes had discarded several of his own sheets and they lay scattered around in crumpled balls, one of which he had begun tossing from hand to hand idly. Even Ross was starting to look wilted, his tie loosened and his jaw a bit slack.

 _Ordinary and trite,_ Loki thought again. How utterly strange that Thanos’s name should even exist among these mortals, with their coffee and their notebooks and their large conference table. How offensive that they expected to be able to wrap their minds around what Thanos truly was. They had trouble understanding the Tesseract? The Tesseract was _nothing_ , compared to Thanos.

A chill began crawling over Loki’s skin, starting at the base of his spine and working its way up his back. He remembered his and Brunnhilde’s trip to Heliopolis (which felt like another lifetime ago, now) and how Thanos had managed to infiltrate his dreams, drag him back to the Sanctuary, and leave physical marks on him as a reminder that Loki would never be free. At the time, had it been easier for Thanos to get to Loki because he still had the Tesseract? Or would merely speaking Thanos’s name be akin to calling out for him, opening his mind and inviting Thanos inside?

“Loki?” said Thor. He reached out, placing a hand on Loki’s arm.

Loki flinched and looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time that he had been steadily digging his thumbnail into his palm, and he had now broken the skin. He curled his hand into a fist.

“What do you want to know?” he asked flatly.

Ross’s forehead creased as he took a deep breath. His patience was wearing very thin, Loki could tell, but he didn’t particularly care. It meant nothing.

“I want to know everything,” Ross said slowly, carefully pronouncing each word. “What he truly is. How you came to know him. Why he sent you with an army for the Tesseract. Everything,” he repeated.

Loki pressed his lips together. “I’ve told you what he truly is. As for the Tesseract, he sent me with an army to retrieve it because he _wanted_ it. Why else would he?”

“But _why_ did he want it?” Ross persisted.

 _You really are a stupid human, aren’t you,_ Loki’s glare said. “Because it’s an infinity stone,” he said, yet again. “Were you not listening when I explained how powerful they are?”

“We are only trying to understand,” Collins interjected. Her voice was the kindest of anyone’s at the table, and it wasn’t particularly kind, at that. “We’d like it if you’d cooperate with us on the matter.”

“I _am_ cooperating,” Loki snapped. The chill had reached his neck, and his own patience was all but gone. “I am telling you what you need to know. But I don’t like speaking about Thanos, and he is no longer a threat to your world, so I fail to see why further information on him is relevant to this _deposition_.”

“We’re supposed to just take you at your word that he’s no longer a threat?” Mackenzie asked with a snort.

“By all means, don’t take my word for it,” Loki replied. “I’m just stating a fact. Thanos sought the Tesseract, which was on Earth at the time he sent me. As the Tesseract no longer exists - here or anywhere - he has no further interest in your tiny little world. Why would he?”

“The Tesseract may not be here,” Collins said, “but _you_ are. What makes you certain that Thanos has no interest in pursuing you?”

Now the chill was snaking its way down his arms. He felt like his hair was standing on end. Of course Thanos would come for him, sooner or later - if he was not on his way already, summoned by this petty line of questioning. It was no longer about the Tesseract. Thanos had a personal grudge against Loki and would come to collect when he saw fit.

“Thanos has no interest in pursuing me,” he said, regardless, “because I no longer have anything he wants.”

“Well, let’s focus on when you _did_ have something he wanted,” Johnson suggested, tapping her pen against the table. “You keep saying he is powerful, but what does that even mean? You haven’t told us what he’s capable of, what made him a threat to you in the first place. How did he convince you to bring his army here? How did he convince you to _kill all the people you killed?_ ” Her voice had been steadily rising as she spoke, the last bit particularly harsh. “Or are we all just pretending now that it wasn’t your _fault?_ ”

“Hey!” Thor cut in, a hard edge to his voice. “Knock it off.”

“I’m only _asking_ -”

“Daisy,” Mackenzie said quietly, touching her shoulder. Johnson tossed him a scowl, but she did stop talking.

Nobody said anything right away. Loki felt a sensation like a cold stone settling into the pit of his stomach. The chill, it seemed, had decided to rest there, on the inside. His head was beginning to throb, and something like panic rose up in his throat. He swallowed hard, and then swallowed again, trying to fight back against the sudden tightness in his jaw that made it impossible to speak. The pulse points behind his ears hurt.

“Look,” Thor said finally, “why don’t we take a break? Give Loki a few minutes to collect his thoughts.”

Ross opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he agreed. He tipped his head back, draining the last bit of coffee from his third cup. “I could use another caffeine shot. Anyone else? Loki?”

Loki shook his head wordlessly.

Johnson abruptly shoved back her chair and got up, striding to the door to let herself out of the room. Loki followed her with his eyes, warily, wondering why she seemed to hate him so much more than even Tony Stark did. He didn’t even know who she _was_.

At Johnson’s exit, Ross relented. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but he nodded. “Ten minutes,” he said, slapping a manilla envelope closed, “and then we’ll pick up where we left off. _Right_ where we left off.”

* * *

When they’d returned from their coffee break, Loki had collected himself enough to answer their questions. The only way he could manage to speak about it was if he utterly detached himself. Thus, his voice sounded very flat and dull to his own ears as he said, “Thanos courts death.”

Loki paused and swallowed. Brief, terrifying images flashed through his brain. Thanos, waxing creepy poetic about his love for Death, as if it was a living entity, Thanos unleashing his torture on Loki while speaking in that same dispassionate voice. So matter-of-fact, Thanos could be. As if he were discussing the weather rather than explaining his bloodlust and twisted psychopathy.

“He courts death,” he said again, and swallowed. His voice faltered and he took a deep breath, knowing that he was fracturing his carefully constructed casual facade but needing the air. “As one might court a lover. Everything he does is motivated by his desire for her.”

“Her?” Rhodes asked.

“He personifies death as a living entity,” Loki explained. Nerves were beginning to gnaw at his lower abdomen, next to the cold stone that had already settled there. He’d hardly told them anything, but already he was beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy. “His love is unrequited, of course, but killing is a gift, you see. He believes that if he kills _enough_ , if he _gifts_ her with enough death, she will return his love and they will be together.”

“But death _isn’t_ an entity,” Thor said. He was leaning forward a bit, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what Loki was saying. Thor’s eyes widened a bit, then. “Unless he is referring to Hela?”

“Who’s Hela?” asked Ross, clearing his throat and flipping back through his papers.

“Hela is our sister,” Thor answered. “It was she who brought about Ragnarok and the destruction of Asgard. She called herself the goddess of death.”

“Is she still a threat?” Collins asked.

“No,” Loki said, at the same time that Thor flatly said, “She’s dead.”

They looked at one another again, silently.

“Wait, so -” Johnson tucked her hair behind her ears, wearing a deep frown. She seemed to have recovered from her earlier outburst, but she still looked unpleasant. “So this Thanos person - or _being,_ or whatever - is a psycho killing maniac who’s in love with your _sister?_ And he’s the one who sent you for the Tesseract?”

“ _It’s a small, small world_ ,” Tony  sang, rather randomly.  

“Oh, my god, Tony,” muttered Rhodes, massaging his temples.

“I can’t be the only one who thought it,” Tony shot back.

 _Norns, give me strength._ Loki brought his hands to his eyes, his movements a bit clunky due to his restraints. He rubbed his eyes so hard he saw stars. “No,” he said, to both Thor and to Johnson. He exhaled a long breath and dropped his hands, his vision swimming for a moment before it cleared. His head was still throbbing. “He doesn’t mean Hela,” he added. To the rest of them, he clarified, “Hela was powerful, and sadistic, but she wasn’t Death. Not _Thanos’s_ Death. His Death may exist, or she may not. I don’t know. She’s another cosmic entity, created from the _idea_ of death. Everything that has died or will die does so by her hand. She is everything and nothing; she’s everywhere and nowhere. And she belongs to nothing and to no one - except him.”

Mackenzie tossed his pen down and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “How did you end up with this guy?”

How, indeed. Loki lifted his shoulders. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember,” Ross said flatly. “How convenient.”

Loki scowled. “I fell from Asgard’s Bifrost,” he snapped. “Through a wormhole in space and time. You’ll forgive me if my memory is a bit fuzzy on the experience.”

Thor shifted in his seat. “When _do_ your memories start?” he asked gently.

Despite his tone, when Loki looked over at him, he saw the naked pain on Thor’s face and it made Loki’s heart give a sudden throb. When he remembered that endless, endless fall, he only remembered how it had felt to let go. How it had felt to die and be reborn again (figuratively, of course, for the prince who fell from the bridge had never lived again). He rarely gave thought to how Thor must have felt, on the other side, watching Loki grow smaller and smaller until he was gone completely. Thor had never really asked him about it, about how it had felt to fall, nor had Loki volunteered the information. He wondered if either of them ever would.

Loki looked down at his hands, lifting his shoulders. He could not say when his memories started because the truth was that they had never actually stopped. He remembered the entirety of his fall, every fraction of a second of it. He closed his eyes and thought of the inevitable crash, where the wormhole had ended and the Sanctuary began. Prince Loki, Jotun foundling and rejected Asgardian, alone among the stars. He remembered crying and screaming and cursing the Norns who had forsaken him, who had not allowed him to just _die._

Then there was Thanos, and Maw, and the Black Order and the Chitauri, and - Loki shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. Norns, it had been so _cold_ there, even to him, the kind of cold that comes from the inside and is ceaseless, unrelenting. Everything hurt, everything was pain. His body was taken from him first, with the torture, and then his mind had followed. He remembered it, _everything_ , and suddenly - in the blink of an eye - he was there again, he'd never left. 

“He takes,” Loki said, hardly realizing he’d spoken it aloud. He kept his gaze lowered. “He takes and takes and gives nothing in return but empty promises. I was a _king._ Betrayed and cast out of a world that had never wanted me to begin with.”

“Loki -” Thor said brokenly.

“Let him talk,” Tony said.

“This little world,” Loki said, the words flowing from him very quickly. He didn’t even know where they were coming from; it was as if he were listening to the words rather than the one speaking them. He'd heard them all before.  “So petty and pathetic, the humans are. I could be a king again. I wanted to die, you see, I let go of Gungnir to fall and die.”

Thor made a small noise. It might have been a gasp, or maybe a sob.

Loki kept talking.

“Thanos takes,” he said again. “He took my desire to die and he _changed_ it. He played with my mind like a child plays with his toys; he opened my brain and rearranged everything he found there. I was broken and _wrong_ and Thanos made me right. He made me his weapon like he made Gamora his weapon. He loved Gamora, did you know? His daughter. She was broken and he fixed her, too. The fiercest woman in the galaxy. But he sent _me_ for the Tesseract. The humans _needed_ me, he said, their sad little world needed a god like me. A broken kingdom for a broken king. Mine for the taking, for only the smallest trifle of a price. The Tesseract.”

Nobody said a word. Loki squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping his arms more tightly around himself. He shouldn’t have been able to do that, what with the chains, but they were bending under his will, it seemed. It was as if the words he spoke had come from a part of him that was influenced by Thanos still. He didn’t even believe them, but they came out with such conviction, how could they not be true? He’d thought them true, once. They were what he needed to proceed with his mission. A kingdom awaited, his for the taking.

Once Thanos had the Tesseract, he’d said, he would be free to continue his twisted love affair with Death, and he would leave Loki be. “He’d let me go,” Loki said. “For the Tesseract. He didn’t care if I truly conquered and ruled Earth. All he wanted was the stone, and he’d let me go.”

It all came down to the Tesseract. Loki had once told Thor that he did not know why Thanos wanted all of the infinity stones, but that wasn’t true. Once he had them, he would be the most powerful being to exist, supreme and incapable of error, able to bend the universe to his will, and Death would finally love him.

 _Killing is a gift, you see._ Thanos’s words, not Loki’s at all, and now they rang in his head as loudly as if Thanos had suddenly appeared here, beside him, repeating them again. Perhaps he _had_ appeared. Loki couldn’t bear to open his eyes; his heart was thudding so loudly that he was certain everyone else could hear it, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

Thanos was never very far. Thanos’s power transcended time and distance. As the Other said, there was no crevice or barren moon where Loki could hide.

 _No, no, no._ He should never have opened his mouth; he should have stayed in his cell and not tried to win his own freedom by betraying Thanos, spilling his secrets for all the world to hear. His composure was rapidly collapsing. Everything seemed to tilt around him, sound growing muffled and faint.

“Loki?” someone said, but it was impossible to tell who. There was a buzzing in his head. Underneath it was the echo of Thanos’s words, a harsh whisper at Loki’s ear. Thanos was _here,_ and Loki’s blood stained his hands. _Death is with me every second of the day. My every moment is spent either dealing out death or worshipping it._

That _voice_ , so close. Thanos’s cold breath tickled his neck. Loki whimpered and brought his hands up to cover his ears, but the voice broke through anyway. _Who under the stars is better suited than I to be Death’s consort? You must not fail me in this, Loki. If you do not bring the Tesseract to me, I will take you apart, piece by piece, and I will feed your blood and bones to the heavens and still you will know no peace._

The lights flickered and a few bulbs suddenly shattered. Loki’s seiðr was responding to his agitation, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to reel the errant energy back in.  _Breathe, breathe, breathe,_ he thought desperately. From the corner, one of the recording devices exploded, shattering sparks everywhere, and Ross let out a shout of either alarm or anger, it was impossible to tell.

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. The buzzing in his head dulled, growing faint; he suddenly found himself able to catch his breath. Someone’s hand was on his shoulder; someone was speaking to him in a low, gentle tone. _Thor_ , Loki realized. It was Thor’s voice, cutting through the panic and the terror.

“You’re safe,” Thor was saying. He had his head very close to Loki’s, his voice so low that the others could not hear what he was saying. “Thanos is not here, and you aren’t with him. You’re safe. Everything is all right. Breathe.”

“I’m all right,” Loki murmured a few minutes later, once he’d gotten his breathing under control again. “I’m okay now, Thor,” he added, when Thor still looked worried.

Slowly, Loki lifted his eyes, and found all of them staring back at him. The room was dimmer now, due to the broken light bulbs; shattered glass littered the table and some of the floor and, in the corner, the man with the recording devices was on his feet, waving a manilla envelope at the smoking remains of one of his machines.

“Oh, dear,” Loki said calmly. “It seems I’ve made rather a mess of things, haven’t I?”

* * *

They took another coffee break. “Loki, please have some,” Thor said, returning to their end of the table with two steaming cups. “It’ll help clear your head a bit.”

“My head is perfectly clear,” Loki snapped. He was sitting low in his chair, pretending not to be listening to the whispered, heated conversation Tony Stark and General Ross were having across the room. Their voices didn’t carry, but Loki’s hearing was exceptionally good.

“What we just saw was clearly a panic attack,” Tony hissed. “Weren’t you looking at his face?”

“No, I was a bit more concerned with my equipment exploding,” Ross snapped back. “For all we know, that was some elaborate show he put on to distract us away from asking about Thanos.”

“Lot of trouble to go through just to avoid answering questions he already agreed to answer,” Tony said. “Look, Ross, the finer nuances of people’s emotional stability may not be your strong suit -” Ross scowled ferociously, “ - but I know what I saw. Trust me, I  have a fair bit of experience in that area.”

“Loki isn’t _people_ , Stark,” returned Ross. “What logically goes for you and for me doesn’t go for him. As we just saw -”

“Loki,” Thor warned; he could hear them, too, and he was watching Loki’s face warily.

“Shhh,” Loki hissed.

“ - and destructive and not of this world. I think this whole thing was a mistake. The Raft is the only place he belongs.”

“Well, that’s not your call alone to make,” Tony retorted. “And if you piss him off, _this_ little show? Will look like nothing. Not to mention, Loki will just walk right out of here anyway.”

“He cannot -”

“You said it yourself, General. He’s dangerous and he’s not of this world. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

The conversation hit a lull as Tony folded his arms and Ross sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Loki looked at Thor, raising his eyebrows a bit. Tony was - well, maybe not the _last_ person Loki would expect to speak for him, but _one_ of the last people. Thor smiled back, reassuringly. He held out the second cup of coffee to Loki again, and Loki took it. He noticed that his hands were trembling.

Slowly, the others started returning to the room. Collins had left to make a phone call, and Johnson and Mackenzie had gone somewhere to talk about Loki without him overhearing, he supposed.

Fair enough.

When they returned, both of them were eyeing him warily, but Mackenzie’s gaze held no animosity, and even Johnson’s hostility had eased. Loki detested pity, normally, but just then, he just didn’t have the energy to be offended.

“All right,” Tony said, when they were once again more or less settled. “I think we understand the gist of it. Don’t we, Ross?”

Ross pursed his lips. He was silent for a long time.

“Ross?” Tony prompted.

“Fine. Yes. For now,” Ross agreed.

“What do you mean, for now?” Thor asked. “The deal was that if Loki cooperated, he would be released today and that would be the end of it.”

“There are still some conditions as yet unmet,” Ross replied.

“Such as?”

“There’s still the matter of the Accords,” Collins answered. “We also feel that we must take certain - well, certain precautions against allowing Loki access to anything that might endanger our security and the safety of this planet.”

“I see,” Loki said. “And what precautions would those be?”

“We want you confined to New Asgard,” Ross said bluntly. “If we put you in Thor’s custody, then that is where you must stay. New Asgard is, technically, considered its own realm - for lack of a better word - but there’s a fair amount of mingling between the Asgardians and ourselves. That will not be the case for you.”

Loki didn’t even want to “mingle” with the humans, but now he _was_ offended and made no effort to hide it. “I am not a _dog_ , General, who must be confined to one side of the gardens so that he won’t step in and dig at the rose bushes on the other side.”

“How long must Loki be confined?” Thor asked, before General Ross could respond.

Loki scowled.  _Traitor._

“Temporarily,” Rhodes said. “Just until we’re certain he’s no longer a threat.”

“Maybe a few months,” Tony added.

Thor nodded and returned Loki’s dark look. “Brother, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the only choice we have,” he said.

“It’s the only choice _I_ have,” Loki shot back. “There’s no _we_ here, Thor.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Look,” Johnson cut in, “your only other option is staying right here in the Raft, so if I were you, I’d take the deal. It isn’t forever. Just until -”

“Until you feel you can trust me,”  Loki finished for her. “In which case, you’re right, Agent Johnson. It’s not forever. I suppose, worst case scenario, you’ll all be dead in seventy years and I can do as I please. Certainly, you’ll see your graves before a single one of you will admit to trusting me.”

Johnson sat back hard in her chair and sighed, shooting a glance at Mackenzie. “Mack?”

Mackenzie, who’d been observing all of this quietly, cleared his throat. “This is the best option for now. You’re right, we don’t trust you yet. I understand that the things you did were not necessarily done by your own autonomous choice. Thanos’s influence on your mind can’t be overlooked. But we’ve heard a lot today, and we need some time to process it, Loki, that’s all. We don’t trust you yet, but we may soon enough. Certainly before seventy years passes.” He offered something resembling a smile.

Loki didn’t know why - maybe it was that Mackenzie was the only one who openly acknowledged that New York might not have been entirely Loki’s fault - but he suddenly felt a stirring of  gratitude. He was grateful for Mackenzie’s kind tone and his open honesty. It was more than he’d gotten from the rest of them, at least.

He looked back at Thor, whose lips tilted a bit at the corners, reassuringly. “We’ll get through it,” he said, when Loki met his gaze. “Just like we’ve gotten through you being in this awful prison.”

As if Thor had been right there in the cell with him for the last year. Loki tried to push the sudden bitterness back down again. He knew Thor had done his best, and he’d spoken up for Loki today and pulled him out of the throes of a panic attack. Loki should spare some of his gratitude for Thor.

“Well,” Loki said with a sigh, “it seems I have no choice. Very well, then. Let’s just get on with it.”  

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: 
> 
> 1\. I think it was implicitly expressed in Sanctuary that, after Loki fell from the Bifrost, the wormhole led him right to Thanos, but I don't think it was _explicitly_ stated. I know headcanons vary and there are a lot of ideas about where Loki ended up after the Bifrost/before Thanos, but for this series, he went directly to Thanos after Thor 1, no in-between. 
> 
> 2\. I borrowed Ebony Maw and his creepy "word of Thanos" thing from Infinity War. 
> 
> 3\. However, because Infinity War sucks, I am ignoring Thanos's "resources for everyone!" motivation and am sticking with what the comics laid out, which is that he's obsessed with the entity Death.
> 
> 4\. I borrowed the line, _"Death is with me every second of the day. My every moment is spent either dealing out death or worshipping it. //Who under the stars is better suited than I to be Death’s consort?"_ from [The Infinity Gauntlet by Jim Starlin,](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Infinity_Gauntlet) and decided it was something Thanos said to Loki during Loki's captivity. 
> 
> 5\. My information about where the infinity stones came from/what the cosmic entities are came from The Marvel Cinematic Universe Wikia.
> 
> 6\. Gamora won't be appearing in this story, but I headcanon that she was still around with Thanos while Loki was there, since Avengers took place before GotG. 
> 
> __ 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for your comments and feedback, they truly keep me going! Also, feel free to say hi to me on [tumblr!](iamanartichoke.tumblr.com)


	4. IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's homecoming.

 

**IV.**

The sun _hurt_.

Loki flinched when he stepped outside, unprepared for how the daylight would feel after so many months in darkness. He shrank back; the sun felt _blinding_ , making his head throb and pound so hard that he felt dizzy and his knees threatened to give out. They were surrounded by nothing but ocean, the sun’s rays reflecting off the blue water, which made it worse. “Thor,” he managed, clutching Thor’s arm - which was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as collapsing in front of everyone would have been.

“I’ve got you,” Thor said, holding onto Loki tightly. Loki squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and waiting until he felt like he could walk again before he nodded.

“Here,” Tony offered, reaching into his suit pocket for a spare pair of the ridiculous dark sunglasses that he himself was wearing. “Might help.”

Loki’s eyes were barely open, but still he looked at the glasses in disdain.

“Or not,” Tony said with a shrug. “But there’s still a couple of hours of daylight left, so …”

With a scowl, Loki reached out and grabbed the glasses. He slid them on, feeling absolutely foolish, but a moment later, he opened his eyes a bit wider behind the lenses and was relieved to find that everything around him appeared several shades darker.

“Thank you,” Loki said, after a few moments of silence.

“Don’t mention it,” Tony replied.

The logistics of Loki’s release had taken an hour or so before they were ready to bring him to the surface, where a Quinjet would be waiting.. Thor had brought him a change of clothes, a gesture so unexpected and slightly touching that Loki accepted them, not bothering to point out that he could have just used magic to trade his awful prison uniform for something more comfortable.

While a couple of uniformed military guards spoke with Ross and Rhodes, Loki was released from his chains and permitted to go into the bathroom to change. There, he’d gotten his first good look at himself in months - there were no mirrors in the bathroom he had access to from his cell - and was appalled at how pale, gaunt, and exhausted he looked. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for the entire year, and had eaten only enough to (barely) keep himself alive.

To add insult to injury, the clothes that Thor brought were standard, casual Midgardian wear, similar to Thor’s own clothes of choice - dark _jeans_ that were slightly too big and a black button-up shirt that, thankfully, had long sleeves and a collar. The jeans hung a little low on his waist, and Loki spent several minutes tracing his fingers over his hip bones, the outline of his rib cage, and the sharp points of his collar bones. He stared at the scar on his sternum, as ugly as ever, and turned to examine its twin on his back before he sighed, pulling on the black shirt and buttoning it up all the way to the collar. He hitched the jeans up, scowling; _a belt would have been nice, Thor_.

He was glad to be rid of the prison uniform, but the Midgardian clothes made him feel like someone else. Now, with Tony’s sunglasses resting on his face as he and Thor walked arm-in-arm to the waiting Quinjet, Loki felt like he might as well not exist at all.

The journey to New Asgard would not be long. They would all take the Quinjet to New York City, and then Tony and Rhodes would drive Thor and Loki upstate while the rest of them went their separate ways. Thinking about it made Loki’s stomach clench with nerves. How would he be received? Would his people still want him?

Would Brunnhilde?

Her letters were affectionate enough - they expressed her love. Loki, however, wasn’t the person who’d left her a year before. He was coming back a shadow. He was tired and weak; he was thin and broken down. Loki shot a darting glance at Thor, who stood tall, as muscular and large as ever, his skin radiating golden warmth. Loki felt like a cretin beside him.

“Are you all right?” Thor whispered, feeling Loki’s gaze on him.

“Yes.”

Thor’s mouth quirked a little. “How angry would you be with me,” he said, “if I took a picture of you in those sunglasses right now?”

“I don’t know. How much are you enjoying _breathing_ right now?” Loki retorted.

Thor’s laughter was a low, soothing rumble; they were walking so close to one another that Loki physically felt its vibrations. “Fair enough.”

Nobody said anything else as they boarded the jet. There were no windows in the back, where the passengers sat, so Loki did not get the satisfaction of watching the Raft disappear as they took off and headed toward New York City. He supposed it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he would never have to see it again.

* * *

The flight to New York was only about a half an hour in the Quinjet, but the drive to New Asgard was maybe an hour more. By the time they neared the little town, the sun had dipped low enough behind the horizon that what was left of it painted the sky violet and gray. Faint stars began to appear, and Loki tilted his head against the window so that he could look up at them. Midgard’s night sky was pathetic, compared to Asgard’s; even away from the lights of the city, the stars were scattered and few. He’d always thought it was so strange that Midgard should confidently believe themselves alone in the universe, but looking up at their night sky, it was impossible not to feel isolated, impossible to remember just how much existed beyond this atmosphere.

He twisted his hands together in his lap. Next to him in the back seat, Thor was looking at his phone - a sleek, slim red object that seemed as foreign to Loki as the sunglasses and the jeans he was wearing. There was a conversation window open and Thor was typing with ease, as if he’d been born with it in his palm. How much had changed? How acclimated had his people become to Midgard’s culture while Loki was rotting in prison?

“Who are you talking to?” Loki asked, nodding toward Thor’s phone.

“Heimdall.” Thor glanced up with a small smile. “Just checking in.”

“Heimdall has a cell phone?”

“Yeah.” Thor grinned, closing the chat window and tucking his phone away. “Weird, I know. They really do make communication much easier, though.”

“I suppose,” Loki murmured, turning toward the window again.

“Hey.” Thor reached out, touching Loki’s knee. “I know it’s going to be a lot to get used to, but we’ll manage. It’s still _us_ , Loki. Still Asgard.”

Loki glanced back at him for just a moment before he shook his head. “No,” he said, and exhaled. “It isn’t.”

* * *

New Asgard, Loki thought when he got his first good look at it, was a colony. _Small town_ may have been the more accurate description, but the houses were nothing like anything found on Asgard, nor was the general layout of the community. It was a colony neighborhood, full of out-of-place Asgardians trying their best to mold themselves to the customs of an entirely alien culture.

Tony drove them past a green wooden sign that read _Welcome to New Asgard_ in gold, written in both English and Asgardian runes. There were a lot of trees, some still the vibrant gold and reds of autumn while most others were bare. The houses were all decent-sized little replicas of each other, with little yards and flowerbeds and paved pathways leading up to the front doors. There were a few vehicles parked along the curbs, and electric street lamps were beginning to flick on as the sun set even lower in the distance.

“Home sweet home,” Tony said. He met Loki’s gaze in the rearview mirror - or attempted to, anyway. Loki was still wearing the dark sunglasses. “What do you think, Reindeer Games?”

 _I think I’m going to be sick._ Nothing about this place was Asgard, new or old; this was the sad remains of a people who had once been the most powerful elite in the Nine Realms, reduced to sidewalks and street lamps. Loki was no stranger to places that were not Asgard, but it was hitting him, as they drove through the quiet, idyllic streets, that Asgard was _truly_ no more; this little colony was not even a reflection of what the kingdom used to be.

He had never been prone to homesickness, but he realized that was what he was feeling now, as the knot in his stomach grew, festering somewhere behind his liver. He wanted to go home and this was not  ( _would never be_ ) home.

Thor nudged Loki the longer Loki remained silent, his brow betraying his worry. “Loki?”

“It’s nice,” Loki managed.

“We’ve tried,” Thor said after a pause. Tony turned the car down a road that led them through something vaguely resembling a town square. The street widened here, with small, commercial buildings on either side. “Most of the businesses are here,” Thor went on, gesturing out the windows. “Still a work in progress, but we’ve got a marketplace, some shops, the taverns. That building there is going to be a school,” he added, and Loki did his best to glance in the general direction Thor pointed out.

“Mm,” Loki said, since he should probably say something.

“I know it’s weird,” Thor said, running a hand through his hair. The road split in two as they drove, divided down the middle by a small park which boasted a pretty white gazebo. “Not much like Asgard of old, but … it’s a new start, you know?”

Loki had about had his fill of this talk of new starts, but he bit his tongue. “You’ve done a good job,” he said instead, and he wasn’t lying about that. No matter what Loki personally thought about the town, he couldn’t deny that Thor had done well taking the _nothing_ they’d started out with and building it into what seemed, objectively, like a very nice place to live.

“Well. We’ve tried,” Thor said again. His smile was uncharacteristically shy. Thor, like Loki, had had everything handed to him his entire life. He’d never had to truly build or earn anything of his own; his birthright was the mighty kingdom of Asgard, wealthy and powerful, fully established. He’d done the best he could with what he ended up with instead, and had made it look _easy_.

“I mean it,” Loki said. “It’s great, Thor.”

“Thank you.” Thor’s smile widened, genuinely pleased. “We still have a long way to go, yet, but it’s something. I think you’ll be comfortable here, Loki. And you don’t have to worry about dealing with anyone right away. We haven’t hidden your return, but we’ve not announced it, either. We wanted to respect your privacy.”

“We’re here,” Tony announced, before Loki could respond. He and Rhodes had been talking quietly to themselves, giving Thor and Loki the illusion of privacy in the back seat, but now a total silence fell over the car as Tony pulled to a stop in front of a house at the end of a long road. It looked mostly like the others, but there was a second floor and, to one side, a large, empty field which gave it the appearance of being more isolated.

“Do you live alone here?” Loki asked, staring up at the house. In a few of the neighboring houses, he was noticing  curtains being pushed aside to allow curious faces to peek out. Word of his return must have spread, despite Thor’s efforts.

“No. Brunnhilde, Dagny, and Heimdall live here, too,” Thor responded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I should have filled you in,” he added sheepishly. “It didn’t occur to me.”

“It’s all right,” Loki murmured. Brunnhilde was inside, then, waiting for him, and Loki felt his heart plummet down to his knees. He twisted his hands together anxiously.

The car was very quiet. No one was moving or saying anything. Were they waiting for him? Loki swallowed, his throat feeling very dry.

“Well,” said Thor, finally breaking the silence. He moved to unbuckle his seat belt. Loki followed suit, albeit much more slowly.  The sun had all but set, which meant that Loki could have taken off his glasses, but something about the dark shades made him feel … _safe_ was a strange word to use, because he was not in danger from Thor, nor from anyone else in Asgard, but it was the word that he thought of, all the same. _Safe_ from prying eyes, perhaps; _safe_ from uncertainty and hostility.

Loki was giving off anxiety in waves. Thor hesitated. “Hey,” he said, “I meant it when I said you don’t have to deal with anyone. Even our friends. You can do whatever you want. We’ve set you up with your own quarters, and everything you need, you’ll either have or someone can get for you. If you want to see anyone, you can; if you want to sleep for a week without seeing anyone, that’s okay, too. You aren’t under any pressure, Loki.”

An unexpected knot formed in the back of Loki’s throat. He looked down at his hands in his lap, swallowing hard. “Why -” he began, and then fell silent, very aware of Tony and Rhodes still in the car.

Tony was more perceptive than people gave him credit for, though; Loki was beginning to see that. He glanced at them in the rear-view mirror and then cleared his throat. “Hey, mind if we go ahead? We have to use the restroom.”  

“ _We?_ ” Rhodes repeated. There was a scuffle and Rhodes made a little _oomph_ sound as Tony dug his elbow into Rhodes’s ribs, followed by Rhodes adding, “Uh, I mean, yeah. Restroom. Us.”

Thor nodded, reaching into his pants pocket and fishing out a key. “Help yourselves,” he said. “We’ll be along in a moment.”

Once they were out of the car, their heads close together as they murmured to each other on their way up the walk, Loki and Thor glanced at each other. “What were you going to say?” Thor asked.

Loki lifted his shoulders a bit, hunching them there. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

Thor’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean? You’re my brother.”

“Yes, but -” Loki stopped himself and exhaled a breath. “Nevermind.”

“No, what?” Thor turned so that he was facing him. “You can tell me.”

Loki shot him a darting glance and then looked away again. He pressed his thumbnail into the soft flesh of his palm, feeling the place where the skin had broken earlier. Outside, Tony and Rhodes had disappeared into the house. Loki studied it, unable to help thinking that it was little more than a hut in comparison to the palace where Thor belonged. He wondered, distantly, if Asgard would ever again rebuild itself to what it had once been - towering and golden, the envy of all the galaxy.

Likely not. Odin, for all his talk of benevolence and preparing for - but not _seeking_ \- war, was a conqueror. He’d established and maintained an iron grip over the Nine Realms, asserting Asgard’s force with military precision. Asgard’s glory and riches were borne on the backs of the worlds it subjugated and, when Loki-as-Odin had begun withdrawing that military presence, his council and advisors warned him against it. How were the rest of the realms to fear Asgard if its warriors were not there to remind them of their rule?

Even Thor, when he’d returned to unmask Loki, had berated Loki’s hands-off approach to rule; _the Nine Realms are completely in chaos,_ Thor had growled, as if he knew the first thing about it. What he _meant_ was, the Nine Realms were beginning to reclaim their autonomy outside of Asgard’s influence, and to a warrior and a prince, it might as well have _been_ chaos.

Thor was not Odin, Loki knew, and his scorn had been before Hela, before Asgard fell to ruins, before Thor truly saw what subjugation wrought. Now, Loki suspected that even if Asgard rebuilt its army, its warrior class, and its nobility, it would never again be the golden Realm Eternal.

There was nothing wrong with that, exactly. It was just strange to contemplate.

“Loki?”

Loki blinked. “What?”

“You were going to say something,” Thor reminded him. “You asked why I’m being nice to you.”

“Oh.” Loki blew out his breath. He’d always tended toward self-reflection, getting lost in his own head, but being imprisoned too long had allowed him to develop the habit of indulging in that tendency without regard to the outside world. He could already see it would take some getting used to, being around people regularly again.

“I just - I mean, last time -” Loki hesitated. “Before Svartalfheim, I mean …” He had no idea how to say what he meant, which was that last time Loki had been released from prison into Thor’s custody, Thor had treated him like the criminal he was, like dirt underneath Thor’s boot. He’d only come for Loki because he needed Loki’s _tricks_ to save Jane, tricks which he so scorned when they did not benefit him. “It’s nothing, Thor.”

Thor studied him for a long moment, measuring. The unnerving thing about Thor’s prosthetic eye, Loki kept noticing, was that it didn’t reflect anything that was really _Thor_ ; it didn’t light up with his smile or sparkle with his charm. Now, as Thor gazed at Loki, his realization of what Loki meant dawned only in his real eye, while the other remained empty.

“Oh,” Thor said, his face falling. “Oh, Loki.”

“It’s fine,” Loki said quickly. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“No, I can’t. You’re right.” Thor sighed and rubbed both hands over his face. “I just - do you remember what I told you when we were on Deaphus? That night we talked?”

They had talked many nights, but Loki knew the one to which Thor was referring. It was after he and Brunnhilde had returned from Heliopolis, when Loki had finally agreed to return to Midgard with Thor and the rest of the Asgardians, even if it meant turning himself over to the humans for New York. It had been the first night in a long time that Thor and Loki felt like they were on even ground, that they’d even _begun_ to discuss - and apologize for - some of what had gone so wrong between them.

“Somewhat,” he said, which was the truth. He remembered the night in question, but not _exactly_ what was said. “You were angry with me.”  

“Yeah,” Thor said, and exhaled a long sigh. A silence fell, and then Thor snorted and reached over, gently pulling the sunglasses off of Loki’s face. “Sorry, I can’t … take you seriously, with these on,” he added.

Loki flinched at the sudden loss of the dark shades, but he didn’t argue.

“I was angry with you,” Thor repeated, folding up the sunglasses and unfolding them again. “About New York, about … about _us_. I’m ashamed of how angry I was, and I treated you so unfairly. Especially with Mother -”

“Don’t,” Loki cut him off, his voice sharp as glass. One day, their relationship would heal enough to speak about Frigga. Today was not that day.  “ _Please_ , Thor, don’t bring her up.”

Thor looked upset, but he nodded. “Well … everything got so twisted up for such a long time, Loki. I don’t need to tell you that. I held onto my anger so tightly because if I didn’t have it, I would have to face how much losing you _hurt_. But we found our way back to each other, against everything that made it seem impossible, and I promised myself that I would be a better brother to you. I would be the brother I should have been our entire lives.  I know it can’t make up for everything, especially what happened last time, but … but I want to try.”

Loki looked over at Thor. Thor’s expression was so open and vulnerable, every emotion written there for the entire world to see. Guilt and apprehension, yes, but a touch of hope, too. He made it sound so simple: _move on from the past. Be a better brother. Make up for your imagined slights_ . It _was_ simple, Loki supposed, but simple was not the same thing as easy. Thor was right in that they had found their way back to one another, but the journey was far from complete. They’d established a new, precarious foundation - now, they had to build upon it once again. They had to replace all the old layers, smooth them out and pile them up again, brick by agonizing brick.

“New starts,” Loki murmured, and sighed. “I want the same thing, Thor. To be a better brother, to make up for what I’ve done to you. I don’t mean to make you feel bad by bringing up the past. It’s just hard, that’s all.”

“I know,” Thor said. He reached over and cupped Loki’s neck in his palm, his thumb lightly grazing Loki’s sharp jawline. Loki allowed himself to relish in the touch; he could almost imagine that the last ten years had never happened, that they were still two princes of Asgard and best friends and nothing would ever change or take that away.

“Are you ready?” Thor asked a moment later, letting go.

Loki swallowed hard and nodded. He looked out the window again, toward the house. This time, he saw Dagny at the front windows; Brunnhilde was hovering behind her. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and then reached for the door handle. “Yes. Ready.”

* * *

The walk up the driveway was short; then, Thor was opening the front door and Loki was stepping into the bright foyer, and everything felt very fast.

“Loki!” Brunnhilde’s enthusiasm immediately washed away Loki’s doubts. Almost as soon as the door opened, she was there, literally throwing herself at him with such open affection that Loki couldn’t help but laugh as he caught her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and she squeezed him so tightly that he had trouble breathing.

That was nothing to complain about, however. Loki’s anxiety drained away and a knot formed in his throat as he closed his eyes, burying his face in her neck. “Brunnhilde,” he murmured. She was warm and thrumming with energy; he pressed his lips to her neck and then to the soft point behind her ear, his fingers raking through her dark hair. _Norns,_ how had he gone this long without holding her? “I missed you so much,” he breathed against her skin.

“Ditto,” Brunnhilde whispered back. She kissed his temple, his cheek, and finally his lips - just briefly - before she released him, dropping her feet back down to the ground. “It’s so good to see you,” she added before she stepped back completely, holding him at an arm’s length. “Oh, but we’re going to have to start feeding you again. What did they give you in there, scraps?”

“Something like that.” Loki thought he’d feel self-conscious from her scrutiny, but her expression held only concern, rather than dismay or revulsion. He allowed himself to relax.

“We’ll put some weight back on him in no time,” Thor said. Loki had practically forgotten he was there. “And make sure he gets plenty of rest.”

Loki smiled a little, lifting his shoulders a bit shyly. The foyer was growing more crowded by the second as Heimdall and Dagny followed Brunnhilde and, a bit behind them, Tony and Rhodes joined the group.

“Welcome back,” Heimdall said. He and Loki eyed one another; they had not been on the best of terms for a very long time. Heimdall made the effort to be kind to Loki, but it was too little, too late, as far as Loki was concerned. He’d told Heimdall as much, back on Deaphus, and after that, they’d treated one another with cool civility.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” he replied. “It’s good to be back.”

“Your presence has certainly been missed,” said Heimdall. Loki noticed he did not say _by whom_ it had been missed. Lying with the truth was one of the most efficient ways to lie; Heimdall knew that as well as Loki did.

“Mm.” Loki’s smile was barely a tilt of the lips and then he turned his attention to Dagny, who was hanging back shyly. Even though only a year had passed, she looked much aged since the last time he’d seen her. Children tended to age quickly until they reached the cusp of adolescence; then, the process slowed itself down, evening out to balance the thousands of years remaining in one’s lifespan. Dagny was taller now, her features a bit sharper. Her hair, which she’d always worn in plaits, now hung in long, loose curls.

“Hi there,” Loki said, and this time his smile was genuine. He didn’t care much for children, generally, but he had a soft spot for Brunnhilde’s pet.

It was all the invitation Dagny had been waiting for; her face brightened and she moved in, wrapping her arms around Loki’s waist. She came up nearly to his sternum now; she was going to be a tall adult, he thought. “I missed you,” she said, and drew back to look up at him. “Everyone else _sucks_ at _hnefatafl_.”

Loki laughed and let her go. She must have made some Midgardian friends. “Well, I can’t promise you I’ll be much of a challenge anymore,” he replied. “I’m very out of practice.”

“That’s true,” Dagny agreed. “Maybe I’ll let you win, though.”

He laughed again. “Still have your king-piece?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” He tugged a bit on a loose curl, which made her beam. When he glanced up again, he caught Tony and Rhodes watching him. Tony’s face was fairly neutral, but Rhodes’s brow was deeply furrowed, as if he could not quite reconcile the warm reception Loki received with the villain who’d been imprisoned for the last year. Loki met his gaze directly, not blinking until Rhodes looked away. _I’m not what you think,_ Loki wanted to say. _New York … that wasn’t me._

Loki swallowed hard and looked away, pushing the words back down again. _Of course it was you_ , another voice responded, low and soothing even as it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. _Of course it was._

* * *

Thor invited Tony and Rhodes to stay for _náttmál_ \- or _dinner,_ as they called it here - before they headed back to the Avengers compound. Heimdall excused himself from the meal, stating that he had planned to meet Sif that evening. He didn’t say why he was meeting her, and Loki noticed that Thor didn’t ask. He appreciated that; he knew that if it weren’t for Loki, Thor would have simply encouraged Heimdall to ask Sif to meet him at the house and to join them at their meal. But there was no love lost whatsoever between Sif and Loki, and Thor seemed to have meant it when he said he didn’t want to pressure Loki or make him uncomfortable.

Sooner or later, Loki would have to face Sif. He was grateful that it wouldn’t have to be this night.

“Thank you,” Loki said quietly to Thor, after Heimdall had departed.

Thor just nodded, squeezing Loki’s shoulder.

The communal meal was less awkward than Loki thought it would be, but he didn’t say very much, so perhaps that was why. He was content to keep to himself, listening to everyone else’s conversation.

“How’s your therapy going?” Thor asked Rhodes at one point, which made Loki look up curiously.

“It’s going all right,” Rhodes responded and then, for Loki’s benefit, he added, “I suffered a, uh, fall a couple of years ago. Could’ve been pretty bad, but I’ve been lucky.”

“We’ve got the best medical team money can buy,” Tony agreed, taking a long sip of his drink. “Plus a lot of technological assets. Rhodey’s almost good as new, aren’t you, Rhodey?”

“I wouldn’t say good as _new_. All the money in the world can’t make me twenty-five again,” Rhodes said with a laugh. “But I’m doing pretty damn well, all things considered.”

“How did you fall?” Dagny asked.

It was a fairly innocent question, but a strange silence fell over the table.

“Fight gone wrong,” Tony said finally. “ _The_ fight.”

Nobody replied. Loki glanced first at Brunnhilde, who was sipping from her glass and not meeting anyone’s gaze, while Thor suddenly looked very interested in his meal.

“ _The_ fight?” Loki finally asked, unable to take not knowing what wasn’t being said.

Tony blew out his breath. “When the Avengers broke up,” he supplied. “That fight. Last time any of us saw Cap and his crew, you know.”

“Oh. Right.” Thor had filled Loki in on some of the details of what had happened between the Avengers, but Loki hadn’t been terribly interested and he’d forgotten a lot, too. Isolation was like madness in that it played with the mind and the memory, hollowing everything out until there was nothing but a flimsy, blurry shadow of what was supposed to be there. “Sorry.”

Rhodes shook his head. “Nothing to apologize for. It is what it is. Cap chose his side, we chose ours. It’ll be water under the bridge one day.”

“Not likely,” Tony countered, his eyes darkening as a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Steve didn’t choose a side; he chose _Barnes_. He’ll always choose Barnes, and that’s -” He broke off, and looked at Brunnhilde. “Hey, can I trouble you for some whiskey?”

“Sure,” Brunnhilde said easily, hopping to her feet. She took her glass and Tony’s into the kitchen, returning a moment later with both of them filled with amber liquid. She also had the bottle with her. “Anyone else?” she asked, as Tony tipped his head back and swallowed the entire contents in one gulp. She began filling Loki’s glass without waiting for a response.

“No, thanks,” said Thor.

“Pass,” said Rhodes, looking at Tony pointedly. “ _Someone’s_ gotta drive tonight.”

“I’ll drive you,” Dagny offered, which broke the tense silence as Rhodes and Tony both grinned.

“What did I tell you about waiting until you can reach the pedals?” Brunnhilde asked with a sigh, topping off Tony’s glass.

“I’m an inch taller than I was when you said that,” Dagny retorted.

Thor grinned. “You’re not going to be able to keep it from her forever, Brun,” he said. “She’s right, she _is_ taller. She’ll probably have grown another inch by next week.”

“ _You_ teach her then,” Brunnhilde tossed back as she took her seat again. “While you’re at it, you can explain to the police why she’s behind the wheel without a license.”

“I’m sure we can get her a license,” Tony offered brightly, having cheered up considerably after swallowing his second glass of scotch. “I know a guy, does great work. We’ll say she’s seventeen, how about?”

“I thought I was the only criminal here,” Loki remarked without thinking.

The conversation screeched to a tense halt. Loki looked up, realizing, and when he found everyone avoiding his gaze, he rolled his eyes. “What? Like you weren’t all thinking it,” he added, as dismissive and bored as ever, even though his stomach was churning again.

“Well, _now_ we are,” Brunnhilde said, and grinned. “If we get caught, we’ll just say Loki talked us into it.”

Rhodes choked a little on his forkful of vegetables, and then started laughing. A moment later, the rest of them joined in.

“Talk about an ironclad alibi,” Tony agreed. “Sorry, Officer, it was the supervillain’s idea.”

“Yeah, well, when you all end up in prison, the supervillain is going to say he’s never met you in his life,” Loki grumbled, but for once, he didn’t mind that the jokes were at his expense. Something about it made him feel _normal_ \- less like a specimen to be examined, less like his entire existence was the elephant in the room which no one wanted to address.

“They don’t put you in prison for driving without a license, do they?” Thor asked.

“No, but they put you in prison for having a fake one,” Tony returned. “It’s called _fraud_ , my friend.”

“How old _are_ you, anyway?” Rhodes asked Dagny, who was the only one not laughing, due to the fact that she was likely still irritated that she wasn’t allowed to drive. She was stabbing her potatoes rather viciously with her fork. “Maybe we can just get you a valid one.”

“I’m definitely older than seventeen years,” Dagny responded, with a pointed look at Brunnhilde.

“How did this suddenly turn into a conspiracy to get Dagny a license?” Brunnhilde demanded. “She’s older than seventeen _Earth_ years, but she’s still a child.”

Dagny bristled. “I’m not -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Tony cut in easily, the warmth in his tone heading off the potential argument their good-natured teasing was veering toward. “Trust me, it never ends well.”

“Speaking of not-children, how’s Peter?” Rhodes asked, changing the subject.

“Pete’s good,” Tony replied. “Keeping busy being his friendly, neighborhood Spiderman self.”

“Friendly neighborhood _what?_ ” asked Loki.

Everyone else just kept eating.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The conversation Thor is referring to takes place at the end of chapter 29 of Sanctuary. 
> 
> 2\. In case anyone is curious, [here's](https://66.media.tumblr.com/dc693eb08d3f5e2bec7e7235148da5ea/tumblr_inline_pixuj9OOFV1sw5wvy_540.jpg) what I imagine the outside of Thor's house to look like. Most of the houses in the community look similar, but are only one-story. In my head, the government has granted Asgard the land to build on and an allocation of funds, and Tony has personally financed a lot, too (because he's super generous and Thor is a good friend), which is how this little small town has come to be. If you wondered. 
> 
> 3\. I make up my own Asgardian aging rules, but I haven't decided how old Dagny is in Asgardian years. In Sanctuary, I imagined her to be about nine years old (Earth years); I'm aging her up to about twelve years old in this story, for plot purposes that will become clear later. I realize only one year has passed, not three, but I do what I want. XD 
> 
> 4\. Thank you all so very much for all the comments you have left; they keep me going and light up my soul. If you like this chapter, please let me know. Also, you're welcome to say hi to me on tumblr (@iamanartichoke). <3 <3 <3


	5. V.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki settles in; he and Brunnhilde try to find their footing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot trudges along. Sorry this update took so long; if you follow my tumblr, you know I've been struggling with writer's block. Fortunately, it seems to be passing. I'm posting this chapter as motivation for myself, even though it's shorter than I intended it to be.

 

**V.**

 

When Loki awoke, the sun was streaming through the window, bathing his quarters in hot yellow light. “Oh,” he murmured, and flinched as he became increasingly aware of his sore muscles, throbbing headache, and dry, parched throat. “Oh, _gods._ ”

Next to him, Brunnhilde stirred a bit. “What,” she croaked, rolling over. “What’s wrong?”

“The light,” Loki managed. His stomach was beginning to roll dangerously. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his pillow over his head. “It hurts.”

Brunnhilde made a whimpering sound, followed by a deep inhale and exhale of breath. A moment later, Loki felt her push herself up. “I’m awake,” she murmured, sounding anything but. “I’ve got it.”

He couldn’t even bring himself to thank her. He heard her get up and cross the room and, a moment later, the drapes were drawn shut, mercifully plunging the room back into relative darkness. Loki swallowed hard. This feeling was not dissimilar to how one felt after overindulging in drink; he was groggy, dehydrated, and ill.

The previous evening, after the meal, Thor had brought Loki upstairs to show him his room. The house reminded Loki a little of the officers’ quarters where they’d stayed on Deaphus, except smaller and more quaint - homey, rather than military. Loki’s bedroom was at the end of the hall, furnished comfortably, and as soon as he’d seen the gloriously large bed, so unlike the cot in his cell, Loki had been overcome with exhaustion.  He’d crawled under the soft covers without so much as pausing to remove his boots. He was asleep practically before his head hit the pillow. It could have been his first truly restful night in a year, but though sleep came hard and fast, it was broken and shallow. He didn’t have any nightmares, but he kept waking up throughout the night, jolted and uneasy, forgetting where he was.

At one point, he woke up enough to pull off his boots; at another point, he’d become aware of Brunnhilde sliding into bed with him. She’d pressed herself up against his back, slipped her arm around his waist, and kissed the sharp, knobby place where his neck met his spine. He hadn’t turned around, but he’d smiled into his pillow and grasped her hand.

Now, the sunlight made it painfully clear that the night was over and it was time to face a new day. Even though his sleep hadn’t been restful, Loki was not terribly eager to leave it behind. If his physical condition was any indication, then today would be even harder than yesterday.

“Here,” Brunnhilde said, from somewhere nearby. Loki peeked out from beneath the pillow. She sat down on the bed beside him, holding out a glass of ice water and a few small, yellow pills.

“What are those?” Loki asked.

“Medicine, I presume,” Brunnhilde said with a shrug. “Saija gave me a supply yesterday. She said they’d help you feel better. I guess she anticipated that you’d have a rough time adjusting.”

Loki merely gave a wan smile in response. Saija was their head healer, having assumed the position after the death of Eir, who’d taken care of the royal family for Loki’s entire life. Saija was very efficient and they’d worked closely with her on Deaphus, but Loki really didn’t know her terribly well.

“Come on, love,” Brunnhilde prompted, when Loki didn’t make any further moves to drag himself out from underneath his pillow. “You can go back to sleep after you take them, if you want.”

“All right, all right,” Loki groaned. He shoved the pillow aside and propped himself up on one elbow, wincing as the movement made his temples give a sharp throb. He held out his palm and Brunnhilde dropped the pills into them. Loki gulped them down quickly, followed by the entire glass of ice water.

“Better?” she asked.

“Marginally,” he responded, dropping back down onto the mattress. “They’ll probably take awhile to kick in.”

“Probably.”

They looked at one another for several moments, neither saying anything else. Brunnhilde made no moves to leave, and Loki made no moves to go back to sleep. Instead, he let his gaze linger on her face, focusing on the angles of her cheekbones and jawline. Her dark hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders, longer and curlier than he remembered it.

“What?” Brunnhilde finally asked.

“Nothing,” Loki replied, the corners of his mouth tilting a bit. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Brunnhilde smiled and then shifted, leaning over him. Loki let his eyes drift closed as she lazily moved her mouth over his, nipping at his lower lip. Just as he was starting to feel his pulse quicken, though, she drew back.

“Sorry,” she said, at his expression. “I’ve got morning breath.”

Loki blinked, and then snorted a laugh. It was delightfully odd to be reminded that Brunnhilde, the last Valkyrie, had insecurities like everyone else. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I’ll owe you, how about?” Brunnhilde pushed herself up a bit. “Do you want to sleep some more, or do you feel like getting up?”

“Ummm.” Loki closed his eyes again. Saija’s medicine was making quick work of the illness he’d been feeling; already, his headache was receding and his nausea fading. He didn’t think he was ready to face the day yet, but he probably wasn’t going to get any more sleep, either. “I think I’ll just lay here for a little while. Not long, though.”

“Okay. I’m going to shower, then. I’ll come check on you when I’m done.” Brunnhilde smiled and kissed his cheek quickly. “Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Loki caught her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze before he let go. “Sounds good.”

* * *

Loki lingered in bed as long as he could and then, once all traces of illness had faded completely, he made his way to the bathroom. The shower felt absolutely amazing. Loki had gotten so used to the tiny, dark, cold shower in prison that he stopped noticing the discomfort of it. Here, the bathroom was spacious and the water beating steadily down on his shoulder blades was scaldingly hot. He stood under the spray for what felt like hours, scrubbing the remnants of the Raft from his skin until he felt satisfied that he was clean and new. He washed his hair three times, using someone’s coconut scented shampoo and conditioner. The humans did not have much going for them as a species, but they had no shortage of comfort and luxury items, of which Loki was happy to take advantage.

When the water began to run cold, Loki finally turned off the spray and wrung out his hair. Then he pulled a bit of wet hair to his nose, taking a curious whiff. Huh. It really _did_ smell like coconuts.

Back in his bedroom, Loki examined his clothing choices. Thor had filled his wardrobe with a selection of standard Midgardian attire - several long-sleeved, collared shirts, a few pairs each of jeans and black pants, a couple of warm sweaters, even shoes - but none of it was anything Loki would have chosen for himself. He flipped through the clothes irritatedly. It seemed that the Asgardians were fully immersing themselves in Earth’s culture, and that included standards of dress. If Loki _didn’t_ wear what Thor chose, then he’d draw all the more unwanted attention to himself.

Loki sighed. He would have to give the proper attention to his wardrobe later. For now, he chose a pair of black pants and moss-colored shirt, along with his own boots instead of any of the shoes in the closet. He flicked his wrist to instantly dry his hair and then, when he was as satisfied with his appearance as he was going to get, he wandered downstairs.

The house was in full swing when Loki walked into the kitchen. “Good morning,” Thor said brightly, from near the stove. He was focused on whatever was in the pan on the stovetop, but he did look up long enough to flash Loki a warm smile. “How’d you sleep?”

Loki shrugged. “Fine. What are you making?”

“Pancakes,” Thor replied, carefully sliding his spatula into the pan. A moment later, he flipped a small, round cake into the air and let it drop back into the pan again. “They’re delicious, if I do say so myself.”

“You always say so yourself,” Brunnhilde remarked as she came over to kiss Loki’s cheek. To Loki, she added, “He’s just proud of himself because pancakes are the only thing he can make.”

“That’s not true,” Thor protested. “I can make a lot of things.”

“You _think_ you can make a lot of things. Dagny, what happened when Thor tried to make bacon?” Brunnhilde asked.

“He set the stove on fire,” Dagny answered, without looking up. She was sitting at the island, carefully slicing strawberries into very neat little squares.

“He set the stove on fire,” Brunnhilde repeated. “And don’t even get me _started_ on what happened when he got that Belgian waffle maker.” She smirked at Thor and then went over to the coffee machine, which had started to make some noise indicating, Loki guessed, that it was nearly finished brewing.

“So my waffles aren’t perfect.” Thor flipped another pancake. “I can admit it.”

“ _Not perfect_ is the nicest way to put it,” Brunnhilde agreed. She pulled down several mugs from the cabinet and began filling them with coffee. “Besides, I haven’t even mentioned the banana incident.”

“Don’t you _ever_ forget anything?” Thor demanded.

“Banana incident?” Loki asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Dagny spoke up, shooting Loki a rueful glance. “ _No one_ wants to know about the banana incident.”

Loki slid his gaze to Brunnhilde, who simply shrugged as she passed him a steaming mug of coffee. “I thought it was funny,” was all she said.

“I think Midgard has taken its toll on the lot of you,” Loki responded as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. He sat down at the island and took an experimental sip of his coffee. Thor loved the stuff and rarely shut up about it but Loki failed to see the appeal. It wasn’t a bad drink; it was simply rather bland. “I’ve no idea what you’re all talking about.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Thor said dryly.

Perhaps, but it wasn’t doing any wonders for Loki’s general sense of unease. The back of his neck prickled as he watched Brunnhilde give Thor a mug of coffee. Thor accepted it with one hand, lifting it to his lips without taking his eyes off of the pancakes. Meanwhile, Dagny had finished slicing her strawberries. She dumped them into a bowl and then moved on to begin slicing a mango.

All of it was so mundane, Loki thought. It was clear that they had all established a routine and adjusted to it with ease. It was probable that they began every single day just like this: preparing the morning meal together, trading amusing anecdotes back and forth, none of them sparing a single thought to Loki or his absence. Loki had long ago resigned himself to always feeling like an outsider. A fresh wave of insecurity washed over him now, reminding him of his place. He swallowed hard and then took a long sip of coffee, not looking at anyone.

“Loki,” Brunnhilde said, dropping into a seat beside him, “do you have anything in particular you want to do today?”

He blinked and then shook his head, allowing a small, unamused smile to cross his lips. “No, but my options _are_ rather limited. The government does not trust me outside of New Asgard, lest I wander off and get tangled up in a web of misdeeds.”

Thor snorted. “You don’t have to be so dramatic, Loki,” he said. “It’s just temporary.”

“I imagine that’s an easy perspective for _you_ to take, brother,” Loki responded. “You’re not the one who is being confined.”

“I’m not -” Thor began, but Brunnhilde cut him off.

“There’s plenty to do without leaving New Asgard,” she said firmly, shooting Thor a look Loki couldn’t quite read. Thor pressed his lips together and turned back to the stove. “I’m meeting Sif and Heimdall later this morning. Do you want to come? We’ve just got a new group of recruits for our military defenses and we could always use an extra instructor.”

Loki knew, from Thor’s visits and Brunnhilde’s letters, that she and Sif had gotten to know one another well and had taken it upon themselves to begin training a new army. Not Einherjar, but not Valkyries, either; simply Asgardians who wished to defend what was left of their people and their kingdom and were willing to die to do so. Brave souls, those.

The mention of Heimdall made Loki wonder where he was - after all, he lived in this house, too, and should be part of this domestic little routine they’d developed.. Yet Loki knew as well as anyone that Heimdall came and went as he pleased, positioning himself where he felt he’d be of most use. He’d probably woken at the crack of dawn to go stand watch by the green wooden sign that read New Asgard, Loki thought.

Brunnhilde was waiting for an answer. Loki shook his head, gazing intently into his coffee. “No. Um, Sif and I don’t … that is, I don’t imagine she’d care for my presence.”

“You won’t know unless you speak to her,” Thor pointed out, approaching the island with a plate stacked high with pancakes. “Dagny, could you grab a few dishes, please?” he added.

“Sure,” she said, hopping up. She was so quiet that it would have been easy to forget she was there most of the time, were it not for Loki’s natural tendency to always be aware of everyone in a room.

“Thor’s right,” Brunnhilde said, tapping her fingers against her chin. “You two just need to clear the air, is all.”

Loki just shrugged. He didn’t know what Brunnhilde knew about Loki’s false reign and how he’d constantly sent Sif away, lest she discover that “Odin” was not who he appeared to be. Loki hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to share the details with her - it wasn’t something he was proud of, overall, although it had seemed like a good idea at the time - but there was no telling what she’d heard from Thor, Sif, or both of them.

“But,” she went on, at Loki’s continued silence, “if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

Dagny returned then with several plates and, fortunately, the conversation was brought to a temporary halt as they busied themselves with serving themselves helpings of pancakes and sliced fruit. Loki didn’t take any fewer pancakes than anyone else but, once they’d begun eating, Thor looked at Loki’s plate with one eyebrow raised and then, without asking, added three more pancakes to Loki’s stack.

“You need to eat,” Thor said simply, when Loki opened his mouth to protest.

“I wasn’t _not_ eating,” Loki returned irritably.  He wasn’t a damn invalid _,_ or a child for that matter.

“Still.”

Loki didn’t bother responding.

* * *

The morning meal passed more or less without incident, although Loki was rapidly losing patience with the way Thor watched how much he ate. Thor was nothing if not consistent in his tendency to hover when Loki was ill, without regard for whether or not Loki actually wanted him to. Even when they were children, it had simply been Thor’s way to adopt the role of the elder brother, the caregiver, the protector. Sometimes, Loki appreciated it; other times, it annoyed him. This was the latter.

As annoyed as he was, however, he didn’t complain. There was no point. He simply ate what Thor put on his plate and listened to the conversation, contributing if he felt like it. It seemed easier, somehow. When they were finished, Loki offered to clean up, since the rest of them had prepared the meal, and though Thor looked surprised - he knew as well as Loki did that Loki had never washed a dish in his royal life - all he said was, “Thanks. I’ll show you how to use the dishwasher.”

Loki retreated back to his bedroom afterwards, not knowing what else to do with himself. He was laying on the bed with his arms folded behind his head, not really thinking about anything in particular, when Brunnhilde tapped lightly on the door, which was ajar. “Hey,” she said. “Mind if I come in?”

“No,” he responded, and lifted his head just enough to look at her. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

She seemed to hesitate for a split second, and then she came the rest of the way inside the room, shutting the door gently behind her. There was something off about her movements, Loki thought as he watched her. She seemed tentative, unsure of herself. It made him nervous.

“You can _really_ come in,” he said, when she lingered by the door.

Brunnhilde lifted her eyebrows - then, she let out  a sound that might have been a laugh. She pushed away from the door and Loki moved aside, leaving enough space for her to lay down next to him. When they’d settled themselves, she folded her hands over her stomach and exhaled.

“This wasn’t supposed to be weird,” she finally said.

Loki considered pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about, but instead, he just nodded. He was having trouble finding his footing. The previous evening, he’d been too swept up in coming back, in taking in all of the newness around him, in relishing in how good it felt to see his people again. Now that the dust had begun to settle, Loki found that he really had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do next.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the training field with me?” Brunnhilde finally asked.

“I’m sure.” Loki glanced at her. “Is that what you came in here to ask me?”

“No. I just wanted to see how you were doing, but I’m trying not to hover.”

“I think Thor’s doing enough hovering for everyone,” said Loki.

“He’s worried,” Brunnhilde said. “I am, too.”

At that, Loki lifted his eyebrows. Thor’s worry could be brushed aside as just something brothers did, but it hadn’t occurred to Loki that Brunnhilde might share in his concerns. “Why?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I can’t believe you have to ask.” Brunnhilde paused and then rolled her eyes. “Actually, I _can_ believe it. You can be remarkably obtuse sometimes.”

His annoyance flared. “I could do without being insulted.”

“I’m not insulting you. I’m just saying.” She exhaled through her nose and rubbed her forehead. “Loki, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

Loki’s skin prickled and he felt his muscles grow tense. “So, I’m stupid _and_ ugly?”

“No, but you’re certainly as touchy as ever,” she snapped.

They lay there for several tense moments, until Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. This was the first real bit of privacy he’d had with Brunnhilde since returning, and he was ruining it because he couldn’t get out of his own head.

“It’s all right.” Brunnhilde sighed and pushed herself up a bit, turning so that she was on her side, facing him, propped up on her elbow. “I’m worried because you look like you’ve been very ill, love. It’s not just that you’ve lost weight. It’s everything else.”

As she spoke, she brought her thumb up to stroke the shadows he knew were beneath his eyes. “You clearly haven’t been sleeping well. You’ve been all alone in that place, with no sunlight, no stimulation, nobody to talk to. You’ve been alone with your thoughts and your nightmares and thinking about it breaks my heart. The healthiest, most well-adjusted person would have a hard time coping with solitary confinement, but you …” She drew in a breath and let go of his face, dropping her gaze. “Well. You know.”

Loki knew, and he made the effort to not be offended this time. Solitary confinement was designed to break a social creature; it was the humanity in the gods, Loki suspected, that made them just as susceptible to such tortures as the humans were. Loki was no stranger to tortures, but nor was he anything resembling _well-adjusted_ , and he had to concede that Brunnhilde was right: his imprisonment had not done wonders for his already impaired mental health.

Yet, what right did he truly have to complain? “It’s what I deserved,” he said, when he found his voice. “My punishment for my crimes.”

A shadow crossed Brunnhilde’s face. “Crimes you committed when you were under Thanos’s influence, not truly of your own free will.”

“I did commit them, though. That’s all the humans care about.”

“That’s all _Ross_ cares about,” Brunnhilde countered. “The fact that you’re here now proves that. Tony and the others, they believe you. They believe your actions were not your own and that, regardless of what happened then, you deserve a second chance now.”

Loki pressed his lips together. She wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true, but his stomach was sinking, nonetheless. His gaze flicked to hers. “I don’t think I do. Deserve a second chance. It’s not just New York,” he said, when she opened her mouth to protest. “That was just … a blip on the radar.”

Brunnhilde frowned. They gazed at one another for several moments, Loki’s heart thudding in his ears. So far, she had not judged him for his shortcomings, but there was so much she still didn’t know about him, so much he wasn’t willing to tell her for fear that she’d turn on him like everyone else. And was that not what everyone else had done, his entire life? Since being cast out of Jotunheim as a babe, Loki had been trying to earn back his right to live and yet, every step along the way, there was someone or something else ready to strike him down for having the audacity to _try_.

Loki thought, suddenly, of Heimdall. It was so long ago now, another lifetime that Heimdall had betrayed Loki’s command as regent and allowed Sif and the Warriors Three to travel to Midgard and retrieve Thor. Protecting Asgard from Loki’s rule - nevermind that Thor had been rightfully banished and Loki had been legitimately made king. He was king, but he was _Loki_ , and the latter seemed to cancel out the former.

How quickly Heimdall had turned on him, Loki remembered; how quickly Heimdall had drawn his sword, ready to cut down his prince and king regent. Heimdall, the latest traitor in the line of traitors. He followed Sif and Hogun and Fandral and Volstagg, all who would betray Loki and twist his rule into something misguided and treacherous and _wrong_ . Loki, whom they only tolerated for Thor, whom they betrayed at the first chance they got. It was not that he was Jotun, for Sif and the Warriors Three did not know his origin, then - no, it was simply that he was _Loki_ , and not _Thor_. No one trusted the dark shadow trailing behind the sun.

So many old hurts, yet they throbbed with the sudden ferocity of fresh wounds. For so long, it had been second nature for Loki to divide his life into neat little categories: before the truth, and after. Before, there was a prince; after, there was a crazed wretch, mad on powerlust and bitter fury. The true Loki fell somewhere in between, but exactly _where_ was beyond him. As he reflected on it now, he couldn’t help but notice that _before_ and _after_ were bleeding into one another, perhaps had been doing so for quite awhile. The more they blurred together, the more lost Loki felt. This New Asgard, this new start, was already stained and somehow, Loki knew that it would be up to him to make it clean. He would be forced to swallow his hurts and his grudges and be civil with Heimdall, with Sif. More than that, _he_ would be the one expected to apologize and try to make things right for the benefit of their new kingdom. If he did not, then he would be the one thought bitter and untrustworthy; a cold-hearted, stubborn Jotun whose presence was merely tolerated, Thor’s undesirable shadow once again.

Brunnhilde tapped her finger against his cheekbone and Loki blinked slowly. She didn’t even know he was Jotun, he thought, as he regarded the concern in her eyes. At least, _he_ had certainly not told her, although it was possible Thor had. Loki was in no hurry to reveal that particular truth to her and watch her love diminish with the knowledge of what he truly was.

“Where did you go just now?” Brunnhilde asked.

Loki shrugged, dropping his gaze. “Where I always go.”

It was not an answer, and yet it was. Brunnhilde made a soft sighing sound. “I wish,” she said, “that you would trust me.”

He could not even lie and say that he did. “I want to,” he said instead. “I do. It’s hard for me.”

“Trust is hard for everyone,” she returned. She looked resigned as she dropped her head to his shoulder, sliding her arm across his stomach and pulling him closer. She felt so warm against him; he could feel her heartbeat in his ears, could feel her pulse thrumming through his veins. “Let me rephrase that, then. I wish you would _try_ to trust me.”

Loki swallowed. _You won’t love me anymore,_ he answered silently, _if I truly let you in_. The words were far too raw to be spoken aloud; even in the privacy of his own thoughts, the sheer vulnerability of them made his skin crawl.

He could not help but wonder when he’d allowed himself to believe Brunnhilde loved him at all.

“I’ll try,” he said, when the silence had stretched too long. It wasn’t a lie, exactly - he _wanted_ to try, and that was more or less the same thing. “I will.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

They were quiet for a long time, laying there, each listening to the other’s breathing. In, out, in, out. There was something so calming about it, so tranquil, that it nearly lulled Loki into a light sleep. Just before he drifted off, he felt Brunnhilde adjusting her position - then, her fingers were sliding through his hair and she was tilting his face to hers so that she could kiss him. Loki had not even realized that he’d needed this until he was kissing her back, sliding his tongue into her mouth, feeling his heartbeat stutter. Brunnhilde sighed as Loki gripped her waist, pulling her atop him. She pressed her lips to his jaw, working her way to the pulse point behind his ear. Loki closed his eyes, his breath hitching.

“Hey,” she said, a moment later, “why does your hair smell like coconuts?”

Loki snorted back a laugh. “Shut up,” he replied, abruptly flipping them over so that she tumbled, giggling, to the bed beneath him.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr! @iamanartichoke. :) Thank you all sooo much for the comments, they are what keeps me going when I am heavily in doubt. <3 <3 <3 <3


	6. VI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Loki can settle in, he needs to have it out with Thor and with Brunnhilde. It’s a hell of a first day back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of sexytime in this one; I don't think it's _too_ explicit, but it does go into some detail, so just a heads-up for that.

 

**VI.**

_Loki curls on his side and closes his eyes, pressing his cheek to the cold ground beneath him. He is hungry. Hungry, and freezing, and in so much pain he can hardly breathe. He cannot remember the last time he’d eaten. Time means nothing here, in the Sanctuary - there is no sun or light, no cycle by which to count the days. It is only misery, from one breath to the next._

_His stomach twists and Loki lets out a little whimper. The Titan is able to suppress Loki’s seiðr, so he could not conjure any food or even ease the searing pain of starvation.  He can practically feel his organs turning themselves inside out, chewing on themselves, desperate to be fed._

_Loki tries to focus. There must be a way. He hears his mother’s voice -_ always focus, my child, focus and balance yourself and the magic will obey. _There was an energy within him, where the seiðr lived, the source of what made him powerful. He needed it now, needed it so badly he could almost taste it._ It is your gift, _his mother said;_ magic is practiced by many but mastered by few. The magic chooses its masters, like Mjolnir has chosen Thor; you are special, too, my darling Loki.

_His core feels as empty as his stomach, and now tears are slipping down his cheeks, freezing on his dirty, bloodied face.. He wants his mother. He wants Thor. More than anything, though, he wants to be dead._

_“I know,” a voice says, and Loki flinches. The Titan is never far from his thoughts. He helps himself to the contents of Loki’s mind without regard to how Loki feels about it. Of all the tortures he’s endured, losing the privacy to his own thoughts is the worst. “You want to die, little Asgardian, but it is not time for that yet.”_

_Loki hears heavy footsteps coming into the room where he’s kept - a cold, dark, bare room, not even a hint of a comfort or luxury. He squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. “Loki,” a voice says, and it sounds strangely like Thor’s, but that is impossible, Thor would never save him here. Thor would believe Loki deserves everything he’s gotten. “Loki,” the voice says again, and Loki blinks, startled -_

“Loki!”

Loki jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. In an instant, the Sanctuary was gone. The cold, bare room was gone. The memories were receding back into the muddled darkness of his mind. He was in the den in Thor’s house, which suddenly felt too bright and loud, with sunlight pouring through the bay window. He must have zoned out. His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute.

“Thor,” he said, trying to control his breathing. “You scared me. How long have you been standing there?”

“A minute or so. You didn’t hear me say your name, like, twelve times?”

“You did not.” Loki pressed his fingers to his chest, calling on his seiðr to ease his rapid, stuttering pulse. Within seconds, he felt warm calm seep through his chest like water. It was a spell he’d perfected in the Raft, when he’d jolt awake after nightmares or zone out in the middle of the day, only to realize that he was trapped with his anxiety and his memories with nothing to distract him. He only used it when he felt it was absolutely necessary.

“It was at least twice.” Thor pushed away from the entryway and came over to sit down next to Loki. His eyes were focused on Loki’s fingers, the tips of which shimmered a translucent green as he worked his spell. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Loki drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, then let his hand drop from his chest. There was something on the television, he realized; he had no idea what it was, and the flashing colors on the screen were going to give him a headache. He lifted the remote control from the coffee table and flicked the television off. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “What do you want?”

Thor looked as if he were about to say something else, but after a moment he just shook his head and sighed. He reached into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a slim white box. “I have this for you,” he said, handing it to Loki.

“A gift, for _me_? Thor, you shouldn’t have,” Loki teased.

“Yeah, probably not.” Thor grinned and nudged Loki’s shoulder with his own. “It’s a phone. Not so much a gift as a necessity around here.”

Loki lifted the lid of the box. Sure enough, nestled in the packaging was a brand new, dark green cell phone. “Oh,” he said, picking the phone up and turning it over in his hands. “Um, it’s nice. Thanks.”

Several moments of silence passed while Loki turned the phone over again and again. He had once considered himself fairly knowledgeable about Midgard and all its strange little customs, but though he was somewhat familiar with Thor’s phone - sometimes Thor would pull it out to show Loki pictures or a funny conversation when he visited him in the Raft - he had no idea how to use one of his own. He had missed a lot while he was rotting away, New Asgard adapting without him.

“I like the color,” he added, when the silence became awkward.

Thor rolled his eyes, giving Loki something between a smile and an exasperated smirk. “You don’t know how to turn it on, do you?”

“Well, I don’t know when I would have learned,” Loki said defensively. “Between the Chitauri invasion and the prison sentence, my time on Midgard has been otherwise occupied.”

“I know. Sorry. I didn’t think it through.” Thor reached over to take the phone out of Loki’s hands.  He fiddled with it for a moment and, as Loki watched, the screen powered on, glowing to life. “I’ll show you. It’s fully encrypted, completely secure, so you don’t have to worry about anyone - what’s the word Tony used? _\- hacking_ into it. Not even SHIELD can get into these.”

Loki hadn’t particularly been worried about that, but it was a reassuring feature, he supposed. “These?”

“Your phone, mine, and the rest of my council,” Thor clarified. “As entangled as we are with the American government, we are still our own, you know, and a certain level of security is necessary. Tony designed these himself, so in addition to the privacy, we’ve also got all the bells and whistles.” He was doing something with the phone as he spoke, keying in codes, and when it was fully powered on and running, he handed it back to Loki. “You can make up your own passcode to get into it, I won’t do that for you. I mean, unless you want me to.”

“I think I can manage it.” Loki examined the phone’s screen, which displayed the month, day, and time. It was Tuesday, October 16, 1:42pm. “So, what exactly am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.

“Um, use it?”

“ _Obviously,_ but for what? I don’t need to talk to anyone.”

“Well, you can use it for more than talking,” Thor said after a pause. “Text messaging is rather efficient. If I’m not around here and you need to reach me, you can send me a text message. And eventually, if you decide you want to go out more, or see anyone, or anything … it’s just convenient, Loki.”

As Thor spoke, Loki felt tension crawling along his spine. He didn’t know _how_ to send a text message, or even make a phone call, for that matter. He didn’t want to ask; he could _feel_ himself growing more stupid by the minute, but he would be damned if he would admit to Thor that, for once, Thor very easily had the upper-hand over Loki in more ways than one. “Okay,” was all he said aloud. He set the phone carefully down on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Thor adjusted slightly on the couch, settling into the cushions. “So, how are you doing? With everything, I mean. We haven’t really gotten to talk since last night.”

“It’s not like we haven’t gone long stretches without speaking before,” Loki pointed out. He, too, sank into the cushions, folding his arms over his abdomen, folding himself small. “I’m fine.”

Thor was quiet for several moments. Loki was beginning to wish he hadn’t turned the television off, if for no other reason than he hated this awkward silence, this strange uneasiness that had sprung up out of nowhere and wouldn’t let him be. He didn’t know what was _wrong_ with him. When he was in the Raft, he looked forward to Thor’s visits like a starving man looked forward to water. Once a week, he drank Thor up; he savored every sip, every nuance of speech and display of affection, saving it all close to his heart to tide him over until Thor came back. Now, he could have as much of Thor as he wanted, but Loki _didn’t_ want him - he just wanted to be left alone.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?” Thor asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just been thinking the same damn thing.

“You, shutting everyone out. Shutting _me_ out, again. You aren’t fine, Loki, I can tell.”

“I’m not shutting anyone out,” Loki said, an edge creeping its way into his voice. _Liar_ . “I just don’t know what you want from me. I’ve only been back for a day, Thor. It’d be nice if you’d just let me _breathe_.”

Thor opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Irritation flooded his features; Loki could practically _see_ Thor talking himself down from some sort of outburst. Everyone thought _Loki_ was the unstable, emotional one, but Thor had only been getting the better of his own temper in the last few years. There were centuries stacked upon centuries in which Thor’s explosive impatience had reared its ugly head. Loki could see vestiges of it now as Thor rubbed his temples and pressed his lips in a thin line.

“You’re right,” Thor finally said, dropping his hands. “It’s only been a day, and I’ve been hovering even though I know you hate it. I’m just worried, Loki, that’s all.”

“I know.” Thor had _worrying about Loki_ down to a science by this point. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know.”

Silence fell again.

“Can I ask you something?” Loki did not look at Thor’s face to see his reaction. He unfolded his arms and began examining his fingernails, as if he weren’t concerned in the least about anything; he was just making conversation because the silence had become unbearable.

“Of course,” Thor said quickly. “Anything.”

Loki smiled grimly. Thor might come to regret that, soon enough. “What have you told Brunnhilde?”

Thor tilted his head to the side. “What I have I told her … about what?”

Sometimes, Loki could not tell the difference between Thor _playing_ dumb and Thor _actually being_ dumb. “About me,” he clarified, somewhat impatiently.  “The whole thing with me sending Odin to Earth and taking his place. Why Sif hates me. What I am.”

“What have _you_ told her about those things?” Thor countered.

“I asked you first.”

Thor sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t told her much, I suppose. It’s … a weird position to be in, because she’s my friend and I talk to her about things as they pertain to me, but so much of _us_ is overlapped that sometimes I include things about you when I don’t mean to. I try to be respectful of your privacy, Loki, but sometimes that’s not always possible.”

That skitter of tension ran up Loki’s spine again. He knew Thor and Brunnhilde were friends, he knew they talked to one another and always had, but something about imagining the two of them together, sharing secrets and baring their souls to one another while Loki was away made Loki’s heart twist and squeeze painfully. He dragged his thumbnail across his palm. “So you two bond over how you feel about all the ways I’ve wronged you?” he managed.

“That’s not even remotely what I said,” Thor retorted. “You make it sound like all we do is just sit around talking negatively about you behind your back. God, Loki, it’s beyond me how you can be so egotistical and at the same time so goddamned _insecure_.”

Loki felt his cheeks warm. “Well, how else am I supposed to take it when you say it’s not always possible to keep my privacy when you and Brunnhilde have your heart-to-hearts?”

Thor made a frustrated sound. “All I meant was that I’ve had to fill her in on some things to better explain the context of whatever it is I’m talking to her about.”

“And all I’m asking is _what things?_ ”

They glared at one another. Loki was holding himself so stiffly that it almost hurt, and Thor’s real eye flashed with the strength of his frustration, and all the while there was something hard and heavy settling into the pit of Loki’s stomach because he always ruined everything. Thor had shown him nothing but kindness over the past year in prison and especially the last couple of days, and Loki had nothing with which to repay him but sulkiness and a sour temper.

Thor yielded first. The anger seemed to drain from him suddenly, and he sighed. “I haven’t told her much,” he said. “Not about how you came to be on the throne in Odin’s place, only that you were for awhile. I also told her Father had chosen to remain in exile on Midgard before he died, which was true.”

Loki dug his thumbnail deeper into his palm. He thought about Odin less and less as time went on, but he took specific pains to avoid thinking about that final day on the cliff, where Odin had said his goodbyes. Thinking of it made Loki feel like his lungs had ruptured and he could not get enough air.

The short-lived validation of Odin’s _I love you, my sons_ was not nearly enough to void out the crushing devastation of _your birthright was to die,_ and yet as Loki had watched the sparkling remains of Odin’s essence drifting away on the wind, Loki’s hope for closure trailing closely behind, he’d been overwhelmed by a gutting sense of loss. Odin represented so many things: acceptance of all the lies and the secrets, a yearning need for acceptance, an apology.

It all turned to ash in Odin’s wake. The sun faded away. Storm clouds rolled in with a frenzy and there was Thor at the center of it - trembling and vibrating electricity at a frequency Loki had rarely seen as he turned to growl that _this was all Loki’s fault._

Now, here Thor was saying that it was _Odin’s_ choice, that day on the cliffs, and it made Loki’s head spin. “He chose to remain on Midgard,” he repeated flatly, and could not resist adding, “And I suppose you telling me that his death was _my_ doing is another of my imagined slights?”

Several emotions shuttered across Thor’s features before he rubbed both of his hands over his face, as if to scrub away the evidence of his frustration. “I spoke out of anger,” he responded, his voice muffled from behind his hands. A moment later, he let them drop and cleared his throat. “When I said that, I mean.”

“I guess that’s supposed to make it okay, then.”

Thor made a sound like a growl, low in his throat. “Why are you so upset with me, Loki? Where is this coming from? Just last night, didn’t we agree that we were both going to try harder with each other - try harder, and be better brothers to each other?”

Yes, but it was easier said than done. Loki set his jaw, holding onto his resentment for a few moments longer, and then his shoulders slumped and he exhaled it all in a long breath. “I know,” he said. The back of his throat suddenly felt very tight. Why did he feel like he was constantly on the verge of crying for no reason at all?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and pressed his forehead into his palms. “I know. I’m just … I feel so out of place, Thor. I feel _wrong_ , somehow. You’ve gone out of your way to make me feel welcome and comfortable and I appreciate it, I do, but all the while I feel like I’m just waiting to be cast out again.”

“You’re _preparing_ to be cast out again,” Thor corrected quietly. “Aren’t you?”

Loki’s shoulders stiffened. He didn’t look up. He felt Thor’s hand come to rest on his back, between his shoulder blades; he heard Thor’s quick intake of breath as he felt just how knobby Loki’s spine had become. “You forget, brother, I _know_ you. I’ve known you for your entire life and as much as I can remember of mine. This defensiveness, this lashing out, this asking about what secrets Brunnhilde and I have about you, creating some kind of paranoid narrative so you can justify pushing us away … if you cut us out first, then it won’t hurt when we inevitably cut _you_ out. Yes?”

Norns, when had Thor gotten so goddamned _observant?_ Loki became aware that tears were blurring his vision and, when he let out a laugh, it sounded strangled to his own ears. “You’re getting harder and harder to outwit, brother. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t imagine you would.” Thor rubbed Loki’s back briefly, and then withdrew. “For the last few years, all I’ve wanted was to be able to trust you again. Now, what I wish is that _you_ would trust _me_. Me and Brunnhilde, if no one else.”

Loki thought of his conversation with Brunnhilde that morning; how awkward it had felt, how she’d said the exact same thing Thor was saying now: _I wish you would trust me_. How could neither of them see the impossibility of what they asked of him?  Loki could no sooner let himself trust that he was wanted than he could have wielded Mjolnir, were she still whole. “I don’t know how,” he admitted, very softly.

“I’ll help you,” Thor offered. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Brunnhilde.”

For awhile, the only sound was their breathing; Loki’s came quick and shallow as he tried to reign in his emotions, while Thor’s was deep and even, like the steadiest summer storm. Finally, Loki dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub the tears away and straightened up, nodding. “All right,” he said, in a voice that sounded tired but more like his own. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s take a walk, maybe get something to eat. You must be hungry, right?”

“We just ate a few hours ago,” Loki reminded him.

“Humor me anyway,” Thor said.

* * *

They walked at a leisurely pace through the idyllic streets of New Asgard. Thor pointed out the house where Sif lived with Saija and her two best healers, Gerda and Viera. Loki vaguely remembered them from Deaphus - they’d stayed in the officers’ house and had worked with Saija creating a cure for the epidemic that had plagued the Deaphans and forced them to seek medical aid in exchange for refuge and supplies.

Thor also pointed out a few other residences, like the home of two girls, sisters, whom Dagny had befriended. There was also a row of connected homes that took up the entirety of a block that, Thor explained, served as a communal home for those children and young adults whose families had perished on Asgard.

“Orphans, you mean,” Loki said quietly.

“Yes,” Thor said, after a beat. “Orphans.”

“Who takes care of them?”

Thor jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. “A couple of the healers live there with them. Some of the elders who wanted to help do, too. The people have really come together to make this community whole, you know? We’re hoping to have a school soon, did I tell you? Some of the children are tutored now. It’s just a matter of getting them all organized and recruiting more people to teach. Unfortunately, the school fell low on the priority list as we’ve been establishing ourselves.”

“Sure,” Loki agreed, putting his hands in his own pockets. A cool breeze kicked up some fallen leaves on the sidewalk beneath their boots. “Certainly the taverns were more important.”

“Shut up.” Thor nudged his shoulder against Loki’s. “I was talking about having to prioritize building homes, and getting our market up and running, and recruiting people for the military, and keeping watch on Asgard’s enemies, and Ross and all the political nonsense we’ve been navigating for the last year.”

“About that.” Loki cleared his throat. They were approaching the place where the residential neighborhoods ended and the town square began and Loki occupied himself with glancing everywhere but at Thor, taking in the layout of the square. Several people milled about, but though curious looks were cast their way, no one came close enough to speak to them.

“What,” Thor prompted, when Loki remained silent.

“Um, you mentioned Asgard’s enemies,” Loki said, hunching his shoulders a bit. His mind flashed to the vision he’d had earlier, and just as quickly pushed it away again. “That you’ve kept watch. Does that - does that include Thanos?”

They were passing the white gazebo. Thor scuffed his boot against the sidewalk, slowing down, not looking at Loki. “It does,” he said, at length. “I don’t think we need to worry about him right now.”

Loki’s skin crawled. “What do you mean, we don’t need to worry about him? Did Heimdall see something?”

“No. I mean, not particularly. It’s just that from what Heimdall can tell, it doesn’t seem like Thanos has any interest in pursuing Asgard. His goals are elsewhere.”

“On the infinity stones, you mean?”

Thor nodded.

“Why did you lie for me?” Loki asked. “About the Tesseract having been destroyed. You know it wasn’t.”

Thor still wasn’t quite looking at Loki. It bothered Loki for some reason, made him feel uneasy in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. “If I had disagreed with you, it would have undermined your whole testimony. Ross would figure if you were lying about the Tesseract, you were probably lying about everything else.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to say anything at all,” Loki pointed out.

Thor’s shoulders rose and fell. “Well, destroyed on Asgard or locked in Osiris’s vault - either way, it’s not and never will be on Earth again. Besides, Ross was pissing me off.”

“Fair enough.” Loki’s lips quirked. “You’re sounding more like the humans every day, you know.”

“I know.” Thor grinned ruefully. “Can’t seem to help it.”

They fell silent. The town square was quaint, Loki thought, returning his attention to the modest hustle-and-bustle of New Asgard’s heart. The little park and gazebo seemed to be the centerpiece around which the rest of the square revolved. The previous evening, when they’d driven through, Loki hadn’t really absorbed much. Now, he allowed himself to admit that it felt a lot like Asgard of old. The surroundings were strange, but the essence was the same: several little shops open for business, townspeople going about their daily tasks, children playing. Loki took note of some of the things Thor hadn’t told him about, like the chemist’s store, a bookshop, a little cafe. If Loki ignored how it all _looked_ , he could almost imagine that he and Thor were simply on a stroll through the city outside of the palace’s walls.

“It’s strange,” Loki said, when he felt Thor’s gaze on him. “It’s Asgard, but it isn’t.”

“Yeah.” Thor’s sigh sounded wistful. “Exactly.”

* * *

They ate a midday meal at the cafe Loki had noticed, which was called simply Njorð. The proprietor of the cafe was a friendly, burly man with a thick auburn beard. He reminded Loki very much of Thor’s friend Volstagg, who’d perished at Hela’s hand, along with Fandral and Hogun. The Warriors Three, plus Sif, were Thor’s lifelong best friends. Loki had never cared much for them, nor they him, but loneliness and a desire to be near Thor meant Loki spent more time in their company than not.

 _Good riddance_ , was Loki’s personal feeling on the matter of their deaths, though he would never say so outright to Thor. Not that it mattered; Thor never talked about them. He put his grief away, somewhere deep inside of him where he seemed to store all the things he’d lost so they wouldn’t show. Loki watched Thor smile and banter with the cafe proprietor, though, and something sad and nostalgic twisted inside of him.

They drank coffee and ate sandwiches and pastries. They kept the conversation light and, the longer they sat there together, the more emboldened people seemed to become. They were approached excitedly yet reverently by people who wanted to spend a few moments in the company of their king, and to welcome Loki - their fallen prince - back home. Loki simply smiled politely and thanked them, even as he held himself rigid and tense in their wake. He was still waiting for the rejection, no matter how much time passed without it coming.

When they finally left the cafe, they went their separate ways. Thor wanted to go join Heimdall, Sif, and Brunnhilde at the training grounds but though he tried to talk Loki into joining him, Loki deferred, choosing instead to walk back to the house so that he could be by himself again. Thor seemed to understand, even if when he parted from Loki, his real eye flashed with a flicker of disappointment.

The day passed. Loki was in the kitchen, figuring out the tea kettle, when Brunnhilde came in. Her hair was in a ponytail, sweaty strands sticking to her forehead and neck. She went straight to the cabinet, emerging a moment later with a bottle of dark liquor. Whiskey, it looked like. “Hi,” she finally said, after downing more than half of the whiskey in a single gulp.

Loki couldn’t hide his flicker of amusement. He had long ago stopped being surprised at her drinking habits. “Tough day?”

“They’re all tough. We got a lot accomplished, though. The training is coming along rather nicely.” Brunnhilde finished off the bottle and then reached into the cabinet for another one. “Thor showed up. Said you two had lunch together.”

“Yeah,” said Loki. “We had some things to talk about, I guess.”

“Oh? Anything interesting?” Brunnhilde lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Not really.” Loki frowned, and then sighed. If he was going to try to trust her, then he could not give into his instinct to keep all of his thoughts from her. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he amended. “We talked a little about the progress here.”

Brunnhilde eyed him. “And …?”

“And … a little about Thanos,” Loki admitted, and could not help the slight shudder that went through him. He would never get quite used to saying Thanos’s name out loud; he had a visceral reaction to it, like for a split second, he was back in the Sanctuary again. “And about you,” he added, before she could linger and ask him what, exactly, had been said about Thanos.

That made her blink and tilt her head. “Me?” she repeated. Something he couldn’t identify crossed her features and then she grinned at him. It seemed forced. “Nothing but good things, I hope.”

Before Loki could respond, the tea kettle began to whistle, signaling that the water had reached a boil. Loki turned away, flipping the burner off and moving the kettle. Slowly, the piercing whistle died down. Strange thing, the tea kettle. Loki didn’t even particularly like tea, but he liked it more than coffee. He busied himself with exploring the cabinets until he unearthed two mugs. “Do you want some?” he asked.

“Sure.” Brunnhilde finished her second whiskey bottle, tossed them into the garbage, and then leaned into the refrigerator, coming up a moment later with a pitcher of milk. She set it and a glass canister filled with tea bags - another Midgardian oddity - on the island while Loki poured the boiling water into the mugs. They sat down across from each other. Loki chose a sachet of chamomile tea and dipped it into his mug, watching as the water instantly darkened with the flavor.

“So.” Brunnhilde was fiddling with the tag on her own tea bag. “What did you and Thor have to say about me?”

Loki drew in a deep breath. He wrapped his hands around the mug, wincing a little at how the heat stung his palms. “I asked Thor what he’d told you,” he admitted. He hadn’t planned on having this conversation now, but it was too late to backtrack. “About me.”

“About you,” she repeated, her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“About my past,” he clarified. “I haven’t … really been honest with you about a lot of things. You know about New York, but that’s just, like I said, a blip on the radar.”

He watched the play of emotions across her face. There was contemplation there, but also dismay and a bit of frustration. For someone who, herself, kept so much hidden, her features were so expressive. He watched her close her eyes and bring her mug to her lips.

“I’ve never entertained the illusion that you’re not a complicated person,” Brunnhilde finally said. She tapped her fingernails against the side of her mug and then reached for the milk pitcher. “You have a past. So do I. None of us are without our secrets or our flaws. I only wish you would give me more credit.”

Loki tilted his head. “More credit for what?”

“For being able to handle all of these dark, terrible secrets you allude to,” she elaborated. “Haven’t I shown you I’ve no intention of turning my back on you?”

“You have,” he said, and sighed. “Knowing it and believing it are two different things, though.”

“Yes, I know.” Brunnhilde blew a little on her tea and then took another sip. “It’s just, how are you supposed to believe it if you won’t even give us half the chance to _try?_

Loki opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His mind was already seeking out half-formed excuses - _I don’t know how_ , or, _it’s too hard_ , or _I have tried_ , except he hadn’t and he knew it. He pressed his lips together and finally took a sip of his own tea. It was hard to swallow against the lump in his throat. He had to wonder why it was so much easier to admit to _Thor_ that he didn’t know how to do this than it was to admit the same thing to _Brunnhilde_.

Perhaps, it was simply the level of trust. They had been to hell and back, Thor and Loki, they had abandoned one another and hurt one another and come back together again. Just that afternoon, Loki had held his head in his hands while Thor implored him to _try_ , to _trust_ , and it had seemed like the most impossible thing in the world. Now, he realized that trusting Thor was infinitely easier than trusting Brunnhilde because they already, at the core, had a foundation that could not be broken no matter how bad things got. They were part of one another. Loki had no such reassurance when it came to Brunnhilde. She was more than capable of walking away and never looking back, if she so chose. If Loki pushed her that far.

What was the point in even trying, then? If it could all crumble down at any second?

Was that what she was expecting him to _trust?_ That he could show her all of the ugliest things about him and she simply _wouldn’t leave?_

Loki felt his stomach start to churn. He was still holding his mug to his lips, but he had stopped drinking, and now he realized that his hands were trembling. Brunnhilde was watching him, but she did not offer any reassurance. She was waiting for him, he realized; she could not continue to offer him blind reassurance if he could not even bring himself to reach out and _ask_ for it.

Slowly, Loki lowered his mug. He set it down carefully. “Do you remember,” he heard himself ask, “on Heliopolis, when I kissed you?”

Her features softened, just a smidge. “Of course. I didn’t think you were _ever_ going to make a move. I was surprised, to say the least.”

Loki smiled, just a bit, but he was not looking to reminisce. “I wasn’t going to,” he admitted, “but I realized I was developing feelings for you and I thought kissing you would make them go away. That is, I didn’t think there was _any_ possibility you would kiss me back. I expected to be humiliated, but I told myself that a swift rejection would be better than endless pining.”

Brunnhilde’s mouth twitched. She seemed torn between laughing and smacking him. “That’s … I suppose I understand the logic … backwards as it is. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I feel like I need to tell you that I never expected us to get this far,” he said in a rush. “I never expected us to start at all. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you. It’s that I feel that awful uncertainty again, like I need to … to push you away before I even contemplate that we might have a chance.”

Wasn’t that what Thor had said, too? Loki was preparing to be cast out; he was quietly setting the wheels in motion so that, when the inevitable happened, it would not hurt so much.

All traces of her amusement were gone now. She pressed her hands to her forehead, holding them there for several moments, elbows resting on the island. “I can’t … force you to trust me,” she finally responded. “Nor to be with me, for that matter. I suppose I understand. Writing letters all this time has been a reprieve, hasn’t it? Neither of us have had to put in more effort than it takes to put the pen to paper. Now you’re back, and it didn’t just seamlessly fall into place. Did it?”  

Loki shook his head, miserably. “No.”

“I never expected it to be easy,” she went on. She finally lifted her head and looked at him. Her voice cracked a little, as if she were ready to cry, but her eyes were completely dry. Which was more than Loki could say for himself. He blinked rapidly, trying to chase the wetness away. “Or maybe I did, I don’t know.”

“I just need time,” he heard himself say. He had no idea if that was true or not.

Brunnhilde nodded. She hesitated, and then extended an arm across the island, closing one of her hands over his. “I’m not any more certain about this than you are,” she admitted. “I guess somewhere along the way, I just made up my mind that it was worth the chance. I can’t make that choice for you, love. You have to decide for yourself.”

 _I know._ Loki nodded, turning his palm over so that he could grasp onto her hand. _I know._

* * *

Loki skipped the evening meal, which did not please Thor, but he could not bring himself to care. He was thoroughly drained, like a cloth that had been squeezed to within an inch of its life to rid it of every last drop. After their conversation, Brunnhilde had looked at Loki’s pale face and said, “You want some more medicine?” and Loki said, “Norns, _yes_ ,” and she’d retrieved the little yellow pills. They’d helped with the aching, bone-weariness that had crept over him and eased the twisting in his stomach.

Unfortunately, his headache persisted. Once he was alone in his bedroom, with the door locked and bespelled, Loki crawled into bed and curled himself up small and let himself cry out all of the leftover emotion from the day. He cried until his pillow was soggy and dull pain throbbed incessantly in his temples and at the base of his skull. This headache was wrought of grief, pure and simple, and so Saija’s medicine was useless against it.

If he’d had to explain himself, Loki would come up empty. His tears had no explanation, except that when he’d woken up that morning, he had not counted on baring his vulnerabilities to Thor, nor confronting the very real possibility that he and Brunnhilde simply would not work. The weight of it all crashing down on him was just _too much_ , and none of it was _fair,_ and Loki thought that there was little else so awful in the world as being surrounded by people whom he knew cared about him and yet feeling hopelessly, utterly _alone_.

When Loki was all cried out, he drifted into an uneasy sleep riddled not so much with nightmares but, rather, with memories and illusions that didn’t make much sense. He awoke with a start, sore and stiff, and expected only a short time to have passed.

Instead, a look at his phone - which he’d left on the nightstand next to his bed - revealed that he’d been asleep for several hours.

There was nothing but silence and darkness enveloping him. Loki swallowed down the dryness in his throat and started to get up to go over to the water pitcher before he realized that it would not be there. This was not his cell.

Damn. Loki sat up and pushed his fingers through sleep-tousled hair. He had no desire to wander all the way down to the kitchen for water, so he closed his eyes, took a breath, and focused. A moment later, a fresh glass of ice water materialized on his nightstand, which he gratefully gulped down. He refilled it two or three more times, only stopping once he felt less like a wrung-out dish rag and more like something resembling a person.

Loki set the empty glass back on the nightstand and lifted his gaze to the window. He’d remembered to close the drapes this time. He thought of the previous night, when he’d awoken to feel Brunnhilde sliding into bed with him. She hadn’t come with any expectations or demands; she’d only offered the warm, solid comfort of her presence with an arm around his waist and a soft kiss against his spine.

His bed felt very empty now, without her in it.

 _No_ , he commanded himself, when he felt his throat tightening. He was not going to cry again. For Norns’ sake, it wasn’t as if she’d _died_. They had not had a fight, they had not ended their relationship. She was just giving him space - or time, he couldn’t remember which one he’d asked for. Nor did it matter. He didn’t want it anymore.

Loki had a few moments to consider, and then he got to his feet and slowly let himself out of his room. The house was dead; there were no sounds of life anywhere. Brunnhilde was probably asleep, but Loki approached anyway. He found the doorknob open and let himself in, easing the door shut behind him.

There she was: folded up in a ball, half underneath the covers, her dark curls splayed on the pillow. A slice of moonlight cut through the drapes and across her bed, casting her in an ethereal glow that made her look like something otherworldly. Legendary, like the Valkyrie she was; in her splendor, she was something he was not worthy to look upon, let alone touch or have for his own.

The thought made Loki hesitate and back up a bit. He reached for the doorknob again but before he could retreat, Brunnhilde stirred and murmured, “Loki?” and Loki made himself move forward.

Loki slipped quietly into the bed with her. He adjusted the covers, sliding beneath them so that he could curl up close to her. His arm went around her waist, and he dropped a kiss to the tip of her spine. Instead of returning to sleep, Brunnhilde rolled over so that she was facing him. Her eyes glittered in the dark.

“Brunn-” he began.

She shook her head, pressing her fingers to his mouth. “Please,” she whispered, “don’t say anything. Okay?”

Loki nodded. A beat passed and then she removed her fingers only to surge forward and kiss him with a sort of urgency that made Loki’s breath hitch. His eyes fluttered closed as he returned the pressure, lingering against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip. She rested her forehead against his and gave a quiet sigh. There was something yearning in the sound, something _longing_ , and he felt his throat tighten. _I’m right here,_ he wanted to say, _I’ll fix this, I’ll make it work, I promise, just please don’t leave me._

Instead, he stroked her cheekbone with his thumb as he grazed her lips, then trailed his mouth along her jawline, feeling her sharp inhale when he lingered just below her ear where her skin was particularly sensitive. She palmed his shoulders and traced her fingers down his spine until she reached the hem of his t-shirt and tugged expectantly. Loki obeyed, pushing himself up so that he could yank the shirt up over his head and toss it to the floor.

Their eyes met as Brunnhilde trailed her hands along his sides, a frown worrying at her mouth when she pressed her palms to the edges of his ribs. Self-consciousness prickled at the nape of his neck as her eyes traveled from his ribs to his just-slightly concave abdomen and then up again, following her gaze with her fingertips to trace the scar on his sternum.

He was barely breathing, his spine rigid. Then Brunnhilde drew herself up and pressed her lips to the scar, softly at first, and then with a bit more pressure as she began to mouth a line from his sternum down to his navel. Loki let out the breath he’d been holding. “Brunn,” he murmured, carding his fingers through her curls and tilting her face so that she had to look up at him.

“I love you,” she said then, and Loki felt his heart drop down to his knees before it flew back up again and began pounding furiously, like a hummingbird beating its wings against the walls of his chest. She called him _love_ and she opened up to him in her letters and she _showed_ him how she felt, but she’d never said it aloud like this before and it threw him at the same time that it thrilled him.

“I love _you_ ,” he heard himself respond, and it was the most honest thing he’d ever said.

Something passed between them in that moment; then she was straightening up and he was crushing his mouth to hers, a frenzy striking both of them that made it hard to _think_ , much less speak. They made quick work of it, shedding themselves of the rest of their clothing, neither willing to part from the other for longer than the few seconds it took to toss this or that garment aside.

It seemed like once the barrier had been broken - once those beautiful, precious words had been spoken - Loki could not get enough of them. He couldn’t quite gather the nerve to say them aloud again, but he thought them over and over in his head as they moved together, like a lullaby sung softly to ease his the trembling of his little hummingbird heart. _I love you, I love you,_ he thought, trailing his lips along the slightly jagged scar that ran from her collarbone to just above her breast. He dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the hardened bud until she was arching against him; then, he moved to the other and she tangled her fingers in his hair. _I love you_.

A spell had fallen over them. Loki’s pulse was racing so rapidly it made him dizzy and his skin felt like it was on fire but for once, he wasn’t _thinking_. He was almost entirely outside of his own head, his doubts and fears dulling to a faint hum somewhere at the back. He trailed his fingers over her hip bones; she parted her legs and he slid a finger into her slick wetness, adoring the gasps and whimpers she made when he added a second, and then a third.

“ _Gods_ ,” she breathed and arched her back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He pressed his damp forehead to hers, listening to their ragged breathing. A soft flush had risen to her cheeks, her eyes nearly closed and her lips parted slightly. He didn’t stop until she was fisting the rumpled sheets, writhing beneath his hand; she let out a soft cry and shuddered as Loki watched her openly, thinking that there was nothing in the world so captivating as watching her come utterly undone.

“I love you,” he dared to whisper again, against the shell of her ear, and she responded by turning her head to kiss him deeply.

“Come here,” she responded, against his mouth.

When he sank into her, he gasped at the warmth that enveloped him, stunned that something that was so purely physical could also make him feel so much like he was _finally_ home. For a moment, he was still, relishing in the chills that danced along his skin, hot and cold at the same time. Then he began to move, thrusting inside of her slowly at first and then with a growing urgency as she lifted her hips to meet his, murmuring, “ _yes, love, that’s it, right there, look at me._ ”

Loki met her gaze, unblinking. For several beats they just watched each other; Loki found something in the depths of her eyes that he’d never seen before - it was as if he saw himself reflected there but, more than that, as if she saw right through to the core of his heart and would not turn away from what she found there. _Acceptance_ , he realized; that was what he’d never seen before. She was looking at him so intensely, _seeing_ him, accepting all of him. Loki wanted to cry, then, and she must have been able to tell because she placed both hands on either side of his face and pulled him down into a wet kiss, bringing him back.

When he broke from her, it was only to catch his breath. The warmth low in his belly tightened with every stroke; he gave himself over to it, to her, and when he came, it was with her name on his lips. She kissed him through it, the air crackling around them as everything inside of him seemed to come apart at the seams. Erratic energy exploded from him into dozens of little mage lights, flickering all around them like tiny green fireflies shimmering in the dark.

“Oh,” Brunnhilde said, when she saw the lights. She was still breathing hard, still clinging onto him. “That’s - that’s never happened before.”

Loki laughed weakly and buried his face in her shoulder. The lights were already fading. “Yes, well. You’ve completely dismantled me.”

“Oh, love.” She pulled him even closer, pressing light kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, and finally his lips. She didn’t say anything else; perhaps, there was nothing that could be said.

* * *

They lay with their heads close together, Brunnhilde’s fingers sliding through Loki’s hair. Her nails skimmed along his scalp and the sensation was so relaxing that Loki, bone-weary and emptied out, was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He slid his palm along her belly, tracing absent lines around her navel with his fingertip. It was so tranquil that he should have had no issue falling asleep and sleeping dreamlessly, peacefully, in her arms. Yet for all his physical exhaustion, Loki’s mind would not stop working.

“I have to tell you some things,” he finally said, his low voice barely breaking the stillness that had fallen over them. “Brunnhilde?”

“Mm.” She didn’t stop playing with his hair. “Okay.”

Loki sighed. He turned his head, kissing the hollow of her still sweat-dampened collarbone. “I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. “There’s a lot I’ve kept from you.”

“Start at the beginning,” she suggested, “and work forwards from there. We’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, studying her face. She meant it, he realized; her features were open, acceptance still flickering in her eyes. It was so _easy_ to believe that he did not deserve her acceptance or to tell himself that she would take it away - her acceptance, and her love - once she learned all of the things he’d done wrong in his miserable life. It was so easy to draw back, to hide himself behind lies and half-truths, only allowing her to barely skim the surface of who he _was_.

Love was not easy, he was realizing. He had to identify the easy choice, the comfortable choice, and then actively decide to do the opposite, with no guarantee that it would turn out in his favor. She loved him now, but she may not tomorrow. He trailed his fingers along the grooves between her ribs, considering that. She’d said she wasn’t any more sure about this than he was - the difference was that she was putting herself all in, willing to make the hard choices and take the chances. She could help him, but she couldn’t carry him; he had to decide to follow her lead, or lose her for certain.

Brunnhilde was watching him carefully, almost as if she could see the conflict playing out inside of him. Loki lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently, just the barest hint of pressure before he drew back again. “The beginning,” he said, and nodded. “All right.”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things: 
> 
> 1\. We'll learn exactly what Loki told Brunnhilde next chapter.
> 
> 2\. I am having a lot of fun with Loki's magic. The spell he does in the beginning, right after he has his weird flashback, is the magical equivalent of popping a Xanax, because I just decided that was a thing he can do. ~~Fight me.~~
> 
> 3\. Similarly, the little mage lights at the end are a result of Loki's magic just kind of doing its own thing, reacting to his emotions, because I decided that's a thing, too. ~~Fight me twice.~~
> 
> 4\. The Njorð cafe is based on [this cafe](http://www.njordfood.com/#who-is-njord) in Luxembourg.
> 
> 5\. Thank you so, so much for your continued support and comments. As always, comments are love. <3 Please feel free to come say hi to me on tumblr! @iamanartichoke


	7. VII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Brunnhilde talk about all of Loki's secrets.

 

**VII.  
**

It was hard to identify the beginning. One would assume it had all begun with the revelation of his Jotun birth and, in fact, Loki had a tendency to cling to the idea that it was that one, defining moment that had split his life into two parts: _before_ the truth, and _after._

Yet even just the day before, Loki had found himself thinking that it wasn’t as simple as all that. He’d begun to realize that his neat, precise _before_ and _after_ were bleeding together and the line was becoming harder and harder to decipher. Now, he wondered if it was not that the line was blurring but, rather, that it had never actually existed at all.

For the majority of his life, Loki had thought he’d known exactly who he was: prince of Asgard, Thor’s younger brother, born to be a king. That was his place, that was his birthright. He wanted to believe that the solid foundation of his identity had crumbled beneath his feet without warning - that everything that made him _Loki_ had shattered in a frost giant’s grip on Jotunheim.

The truth, however, was much more complicated: it was not the _foundation_ that had crumbled but the _illusion_ of it and, when that illusion fell away, Loki was left with a sense of understanding that tore him apart more than the lies and secrets ever could: _oh._ This _is why I am the way I am_.  

For if learning that he was a frost giant - a misfit, a monster who left destruction and death wherever he dared to tread - made _sense_ to him, then that meant Loki the prince had never  actually existed at all. It was a shiny, golden lie, much like the whole of Asgard itself, and Loki had always been the villain underneath.

He did not know how to articulate these thoughts to Brunnhilde; they were buried so deeply within him that he wasn’t certain dredging them up and giving them a voice wouldn’t only bring him pain he wasn’t yet ready to cope with. Without this context, it became  harder to find a point at which to start telling her how he’d spiraled down from Asgard’s prince to Midgard’s prisoner, but he did the best he could.

He decided to start with his decision - ill-fated and poorly executed - to let the Jotuns into Asgard on Thor’s would-be coronation day. “Thor as he was then would be unrecognizable to you,” Loki said, into the soft darkness that enveloped them. He prayed he’d get his secrets out before morning came to snatch the safety away. “He was arrogant, hot-headed, full of lust for battle and glory. He was a fool, plain and simple.”

“Not so unrecognizable as all that,” Brunnhilde responded. She had turned onto her side and they were now facing one another, Loki still propped up on one elbow, Brunnhilde’s hair partially curtaining her face. “Thor’s still arrogant and certainly hot-headed, at least.”

“Not so much a fool anymore, though,” Loki had to admit - for if he was airing out his secrets, surely his changed opinion of his brother would count. “He’s capable of being a king now. He wasn’t then.”

Brunnhilde hummed her acknowledgement. “Go on.”

Loki took a deep breath and let it out again. “I knew ways in and out of Asgard that escaped Heimdall’s gaze,” he continued. “Without the Bifrost. The pathways between worlds are plentiful, if one knows where to look. Asgard, Jotunheim, Midgard … the Nine Realms are all part of Yggdrasil, but many forget that the trunk is not the only thing that binds them. The branches are everywhere. They’re woven together, twisting and turning like ivy. And they are strong. You reach out and take hold, and the branches will carry you anywhere you need to go. I showed the Jotuns the way. It was easy.”

She said nothing, simply let him talk, and the more space she gave him, the more he was able to reveal. He told her how the coronation had been halted and how Thor had played perfectly into his hands - his outrage at having his day of triumph ruined had led Odin to rethink Thor’s readiness for the throne. A few carefully placed words later and Thor was further in Loki’s control, with his idiotic, desperate desire to charge into Jotunheim and slay the frost giants whose kind dared cross into Asgard’s golden palace.

“We were never supposed to make it there,” Loki said, and let out what might have been a laugh. It verged on the edge of tears, soft and bitter. “To Jotunheim. I tipped off a guard with strict instructions that he was to go to Odin immediately. I don’t know what happened. Odin came too late. By then, everything had gone to hell.”

Brunnhilde reached out, running her fingers along his forearm. “And then what?”

Loki sighed, easing himself down so that his head fully rested on the pillow next to hers. He closed his eyes and pressed his face, briefly, into the soft cotton pillowcase  before he forged on. “Odin was outraged. Never had I seen him so furious, and it was terrifying. He banished Thor - stripped him of his titles and his powers and of Mjolnir and sent him to Midgard with nothing but the clothes on his back. Not two hours later, he fell into the Odinsleep, and my mother made me king regent.”

As Loki spoke, he watched Brunnhilde’s face - as much of it as he could see in the shadows - so that he could catch and analyze every nuance of her reaction. She remained largely impassive, however, except for a slight raising of her eyebrows when he said he’d been made king. Loki had to wonder if that was because Thor had told a different story - from Thor’s point of view, Loki had usurped the throne. Loki _was_ a usurper, that was true, but the first time he’d taken the throne he had not been. His regency was legitimate, and he felt a lingering bitterness over how Heimdall and the Warriors Three had treated _him_ as the traitor.

“There’s something else,” Loki said, when she simply continued to watch him, taking in his every word with judgement withheld. He dropped his gaze. No matter how closely he’d been watching her, Loki did not want to see the exact moment when her features changed. The possibility that she’d look at him in disgust was too strong, and he would not be able to bear it. “It was at this time that I learned of my adoption. While we were fighting on Jotunheim, a frost giant grabbed my arm. I expected my skin to burn at the touch, but that didn’t happen. I was uninjured, at least, but …”

Loki trailed off. Suddenly the words felt like sludge, thick and stuck to the back of his throat. He swallowed hard a few times.

“But …” Brunnhilde prompted.

“I changed,” Loki said, in a rush. “My arm turned blue in the frost giant’s grip and did not return to normal until he’d let go. I thought I was cursed, bewitched in some way. After Thor’s banishment, I went to Odin’s vault and placed my hands upon the Casket of Ancient Winters, the heart of Jotunheim. Once again, I changed. Odin caught me there, and I confronted him. He admitted that, in the aftermath of battle, he’d found me abandoned in the cold. Left to die because I was a runt. Laufey’s child.”

At some point, Loki had closed his eyes; he could not look at her, could not even catch her features by accident as he spoke. The only way to get it out was to close his eyes and pretend he was alone. Now he paused to breathe and to let the weight of his words sink in, and he kept his eyes closed and waited for the revulsion, the rejection.

It seemed an eternity, but finally he felt the skim of Brunnhilde’s fingertips against his cheek. She tapped his chin, her touch just as gentle as ever, and Loki swallowed hard and opened his eyes and forced himself to look at her.

There was nothing in her face that hadn’t been there before - nothing more than impassivity and mild concern as she listened to him. “You’re saying that you are Jotun, not Asgardian,” she clarified, and Loki nodded. “And your father was Laufey, the king?”

“ _Father_ might be too generous a word,” Loki said, “but I was born of him, yes.”

“And he left you to die … because you were too small?”

“So it would seem.”

Brunnhilde hesitated, and then placed her palm against his cheek. “The way you look,” she said. “Is it magic, then?”

Loki, too, hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I suppose. But it is more than a glamour. An illusion is just that: a manipulation of the way one sees a thing. Like the orange I gave you. I can cast an illusion on my form and appear however I wish, but it is like putting on armor - it’s merely a covering, tossed on without regard to what is underneath. But what I _am,_ as you see me  … that is bone-deep. Skin, muscles, organs. My heart beats Aesir. It is more like shape-shifting, perhaps. And though I can do that, I didn’t make myself this way. I believe it is the Allfather’s spell, though it did not break when he died. If I am in direct physical contact with something of Jotunheim - like the casket, or another frost giant - my body shifts. Otherwise, I _default_ to Aesir, and I do not know how to make myself change independently.”

“Have you never tried?”

Loki shook his head. “I believe I can learn it,” he admitted, more quietly, “but I have never found the inclination - nor the courage - to do so.”

Brunnhilde moved to tuck a stray bit of his hair behind his ear, and then she withdrew. “And what is it you’re afraid of?” she asked, just as quietly. “If you were to learn?”

“Losing myself,” he said immediately. “I have … come to terms, more or less, with what I am underneath but I have done that only with the comfort of being Loki in every other way, including appearance. This is who I am.” He gestured at himself - pink flesh, green eyes, flawed but familiar. “This is who I’ve always been. I need that. I need it not to change.”

“Who you are is more than how you look,” Brunnhilde pointed out. “Jotun is a part of you, regardless. That said, I understand the consolation of the familiar … and I understand what it is to bury the parts of ourselves we fear and loathe most.”

“And what do you fear and loathe?” Loki couldn’t help but ask.

A smile ghosted across Brunnhilde’s lips. “Nice try, but we’re talking about _you_. My time will come soon enough.”

Loki returned her smile, though it faded again quickly. “Does it bother you?” he dared to ask.

“What, that you are not Aesir? No.” Brunnhilde said it so simply, as if it were nothing. “I know the stories about the Jotuns. They are just that: stories. You must understand, love, I lost everything when the Valkyrie were slain. Not only my sisters-in-arms, not only my lover, but my _identity_. My belief in Asgard and in the throne was shattered; I saw it all for the lie it was. I know what it is to be crushed beneath Odin’s boot only to be built back up on illusions. The Valkyrie died for Odin, and thus we were made legends. The Jotuns were conquered by Odin, and thus they were made monsters. But the truth is never that simple.”

“Ah.” It was much too small a sound to encompass the relief that surged through him, but Loki was finding it hard to even breathe, so overwhelmed was he by her words. He felt his vision grow blurry and he blinked rapidly to chase the tears away. “You mentioned once,” he said, when he found his voice, “that Frigga was not Hela’s mother. Who was?”

Brunnhilde sighed. She adjusted her position a bit, fluffing her pillow underneath her. “That is one of Odin’s secrets, I’m afraid. She was gone by the time I was born, and Hela turned against Odin not long after he married Frigga. I was still young then. I remember the ceremony.”

He did not miss the slight hitch in her voice at her words. She’d told him once that she was of noble birth, before she left home to join the Valkyrie. All indications had been that it was not a happy home. He’d never asked about it further; perhaps, he was too self-absorbed, but it was also that there had just never been _time_. “You remember a lot,” he said, simply.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Despite my best efforts otherwise.”

The corners of Loki’s mouth tilted downward, sadly. “I know.”

A beat passed between them, and then Brunnhilde reached out and traced a finger over the scar on his chest. “Is that when you got this?” she asked, swiftly moving the subject away from her own past.

“No.” Loki glanced down, watching her movements. She touched him so delicately. “That happened later.”

“Tell me.”

Loki did.

* * *

They talked until the sun came up. He told her everything: how he’d planned to use his position as regent to both end Thor’s war with Jotunheim as well as prove himself to Odin, how Heimdall and the Warriors Four had turned against him to get Thor back, the Bifrost and Odin’s rejection and the fall from the rainbow bridge.

He glossed over his time with Thanos, only telling her that the wormhole through which he’d fallen had brought him to the Sanctuary and that he’d been tortured there. Perhaps one day, he’d share those details; today, not even the safety of the darkness around them was stronger than his fear and the mere idea of giving voice to what he’d gone through made him tremble somewhere down in his core.

He skipped ahead, instead, telling her how Thanos had sent him to Earth for the Tesseract. By then, dawn was breaking through the heavy drapes, bathing the room in a pale gray light. He fell silent, feeling self-consciousness creep over him.

“Oh,” Brunnhilde said, following his gaze to the window. “I didn’t realize how much time passed.”

“Yeah.” Loki’s lips quirked. “We can stop talking, if you want.”

“If we stop talking now, you’ll never start again,” she pointed out.

That was true enough. Brunnhilde rolled her eyes when he didn’t disagree and kissed him gently before she yawned and pushed herself up. “I _do_ have to pee, though,” she said, and Loki couldn’t help a grin. He adjusted his position, stretching his sore limbs, while she climbed out of bed, shrugged into a pale indigo robe, and sort of limped in the direction of the bathroom.

While she was gone, Loki pulled himself into a sitting position and reached for his sleep pants, which had been discarded to the floor. He slid them up over his hips and pushed his hands through his tousled hair, finger-combing out the tangles. Then he conjured up two glasses of ice water, which shimmered into existence on the nightstand, next to Brunnhilde’s blue cell phone, which he hadn’t noticed before. He picked it up to check the time, which the display told him was 6:57am.

Loki sighed. He set the phone back down and took a sip from one of the water glasses. Seven a.m., and he was hardly even halfway through his sordid tale. Part of him wanted to table the rest; he’d come back to it eventually, maybe. The rest of him knew that, given the opportunity, he’d talk himself out of _ever_ finishing this conversation. Brunnhilde knew him better than he’d realized; she saw right through him.

“You okay?” Brunnhilde came out of the bathroom, pulling her hair over one shoulder and working it into a single braid.

Loki nodded and gestured toward the water. “Thirsty?”

“Always, but not for water.” Brunnhilde flashed a grin and went over to one of her bookshelves. She pushed aside several books and reached behind them, unearthing a slim bottle of liquor.

“Why hide it?” Loki asked curiously. It wasn’t like they didn’t all _know_ about her drinking habits.

Brunnhilde shrugged, unscrewing the cap and taking a gulp. “Habit, I guess. Keeping the good stuff for a rainy day, you know - out of sight, out of mind. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” Loki continued to watch her. She took another sip and then carefully recapped the bottle and put it back where it had come from. She placed the books in front of it again and when she joined him on the bed, he impulsively reached out and took one of her hands, running his thumb lightly across her knuckles.

“Are _you_ okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She looked down at their entwined hands. “Always.”

Loki didn’t think that was true. Unease gnawed at the pit of his stomach. During the year he was away, he hadn’t thought much about her drinking problem; it just wasn’t something that had come up in their letters, and he hadn’t been around to see it for himself. Now, though, he’d seen her drink more in the past two days than most people drank in a _month_ , and it didn’t sit right with him.

He was worried, he realized, but he did not know what he could say to express that to her. Loki squeezed her hand more tightly. Maybe there was nothing he could say about it right then, but he resolved to be more attentive to the issue and try to help her ease back on it.

“Here,” he said, picking up the second water glass. “Drink some of this, too. Please?”

Brunnhilde looked up at him. For a few moments, her gaze was measuring; then, she nodded and accepted the water. “Thanks.”

Loki simply leaned in, pressing his lips to her temple.

* * *

“A lot of it feels like it never happened,” Loki admitted. Brunnhilde had drawn the drapes closed so tightly that the sunlight could not peek through, and though it was not complete darkness, it helped. They were curled up close underneath the blankets, Brunnhilde tracing absent circles against Loki’s hipbone as he spoke. They’d gotten to New York, some of which Brunnhilde already knew, but none of what she’d heard was from Loki’s point of view.

“I remember coming through the portal and feeling … confused,” he went on. “I wasn’t sure where I was at first. I was in a lot of pain, but I was armed with the scepter, and all I could think was, _I cannot fail_ . Everything was amplified - every thought, every feeling. I was _so_ angry and so … full of hatred. More than anything, though, I was afraid.”

“Of Thanos,” Brunnhilde said. “Of what he would do to you if you failed.”

“Yes. I didn’t even realize how much he’d influenced my mind. As intense as my emotions were, they also made perfect sense to me. Not just the fear, but the … rage, and the power lust. I felt …” Loki paused and closed his eyes, drawing a breath.

“On Asgard,” he continued after a moment, “I wasn’t even given a _chance_ to do anything wrong. I mean, I realize in hindsight that my plan for Laufey - for Jotunheim - was wrong. I’m not proud of my actions. Yet when I think of it, what I cannot make sense of is _why_ Heimdall and Thor’s friends turned against me so rapidly. It was not my plan they turned against; it was _me_ , Loki. They hated me for daring to sit on a throne that was rightfully mine. They could not see the truth of what Thor was; they looked at me and found _me_ lacking.

“When Thor returned, I appeared the usurper. The betrayer, not the betrayed, and cast out to die, just as I had been as a babe. Under Thanos’s hand, I was made weak and broken and all the while my fury grew. So when I found myself on Earth, on this tiny little planet that Thor loved, suddenly I had power. Suddenly I was feared. The humans seemed so small and weak and _pathetic_ , yet it was they whom Thor betrayed me for. I wanted their world to burn. I clung onto that desire, and it seemed like the most logical thing in the universe.”

Brunnhilde had stopped tracing his hip bone, but her fingers still rested lightly against the soft material of his pants. She was watching him, her brow slightly furrowed as she absorbed his words. “That was what Thanos did to you,” she finally said. She paused, chewing on her lip. “Loki, I won’t lie to you and say none of it was your fault. We both know better than that, and those words mean nothing. You did some things wrong, and you made mistakes, and there are always consequences to be paid for bad choices.”

Loki swallowed hard and nodded.

“Believe me, I know,” she added. “I’ve made more than my share, too. But I also know that the context in which you made your choices matters. You were treated unfairly, to say the very least, when you were made regent. Everyone involved made terrible choices, it sounds like, including Thor. But instead of having time to come to terms with it all, you fell into the hands of a sadistic lunatic who further tormented and twisted your mind because it suited _his_ needs.”

“I was his puppet,” Loki admitted, and let out a bitter laugh. “I felt so powerful, at the time, but in truth, I was weaker than I’d ever been.”

“Not weak,” she corrected. “I don’t know what the right word is, for what you were, but it isn’t weak.”

“Madness,” he said softly. “I had gone mad.”

Brunnhilde trailed her fingertips along the lines of his ribcage. She didn’t disagree.

“It all feels a blur,” he said, after a few beats had passed. “I hardly remember being in Germany. I remember that I killed Thor’s friend - Agent Coulson - although I could not tell you _why_ I did it. I don’t remember where I went after I escaped from SHIELD. Stark Tower, I think. I remember the look on Tony Stark’s face just before I threw him through his own window, but I don’t remember what we said to one another beforehand.

“Mostly … I remember Thor pleading with me amidst the chaos and I wanted _so badly_ to surrender, to just … collapse against him and tell him I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen and to please, please make it stop. I stabbed him instead.”

“Why didn’t you surrender?”

“Thanos was listening,” Loki replied simply. “I had to keep going. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I lost anyway.”

* * *

 

It was ten o’clock when from Brunnhilde’s phone burst a short musical jingle, making Loki jump. “What the hell was that?”

Brunnhilde laughed, reaching over him to peer at the screen. “You get used to the weird noises these things make,” she said, and showed him the display. “Thor wants to know if you’re with me. I guess he went to your room to check on you.”

Loki rolled his eyes, turning to lay on his back. “He’s still hovering, I see.”

“Seems like.” Brunnhilde tapped a few keys, sending a message back. “I told him we’ll be down later.”

“Do you need to leave?” Loki asked, the thought occurring to him that she had other responsibilities, like the military training.

“No. Sif and Heimdall can handle things without me.” Brunnhilde set the phone down and curled into him again, resting her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I don’t _want_ to go anywhere. I just want to be here with you.”

Loki smiled, sliding his fingers through her hair. “Me too.”

* * *

By the time he got to what happened on Svartalfheim, Loki was growing weary. He hadn’t realized just how _much_ he’d been holding onto, and the weight of it leaving him left him feeling physically drained. He was going to sleep for about three days after this, he thought.

“You gave your life to save Thor,” Brunnhilde said. She was caressing his sternum with the pad of her thumb. Loki had just finished telling her how the Kursed had impaled him and how Thor had held Loki as Loki felt the life bleed out of him. “And Jane.”

“That was the intention,” Loki admitted.

“Was it magic?” Brunnhilde asked. “That saved you?”

Loki nodded. “I should have died. When I woke up, Thor and Jane were gone.” His voice cracked a little; he and Thor had made their peace over Thor leaving Loki’s body there on Svartalfheim, and Loki understood the position Thor had been in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a little bitter about it.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Loki continued. “Thor had promised to return me to my cell after our mission was finished, and I knew that if Thor found out I’d survived, he’d believe I’d done it on purpose - to trick him yet again. Not to mention there was a rather long line of people who’d promised to kill me should I betray Thor. Needless to say, surviving was not in my best interest. So I made an impulsive choice and returned to Asgard disguised as an Einherjar.”

Brunnhilde adjusted slightly, propping herself up on an elbow. “Thor mentioned that you were on the throne for awhile,” she said, studying his face. “When he was on Earth with Jane, that is, not when he was banished. You took it from Odin then, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Loki drew in a breath and held it for a moment before he exhaled, slowly. “It … I don’t know what I was thinking.” He paused. “No, that’s a lie. I was thinking that I was so _angry_ at Odin - he’d treated me so horribly when I came back, imprisoned me for life when my crimes were no worse than his own. He took my mother away from me, and then he let her die.” Tears stung Loki’s eyes. “I knew I couldn’t kill him, but I thought that if I could make _him_ feel powerless and alone, if I could take from him everything that made him strong, then perhaps he would understand … I don’t know.”

“You wanted him to know how he made you feel,” Brunnhilde ventured. She carefully brushed some of the tears from his cheek. “Alone. Small. Abandoned.”

Loki nodded. He blinked rapidly. “I cast a spell on him, stranded him on Earth. He would know just enough of who he was to know he’d been cast out, but not why or by whom. He had all of his power, but he knew not how to use it. I took from him everything that made him the Allfather, and left him simply Odin. It was a powerful spell, but I expected he’d break it eventually. It was never my intent to keep the throne. I only intended to buy myself time to figure out what to do next.”

“He didn’t break the spell, though,” Brunnhilde guessed.

“He did, but he didn’t come back to Asgard. He chose to remain in exile. I don’t know why. But with Odin gone, and Thor choosing to live on Earth with Jane, I simply … stayed in Odin’s place. Eventually, Thor came back and discovered what I’d done. We went to Midgard to collect Odin, but by then, Odin was already dying.”

“And when he died, Hela returned,” Brunnhilde finished for him.

“Yes. And now here we are, more or less.”

Brunnhilde stretched, rubbing at the back of her neck. For awhile, they were quiet; Loki was thoroughly exhausted, and Brunnhilde seemed to be absorbing everything he’d said. She sat up and stretched again, reaching her arms toward the ceiling. Outside, the morning was fading into early afternoon, and Loki’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten anything since he and Thor had shared a meal at the cafe the day prior.

Brunnhilde giggled at the sound. “I’m hungry, too,” she said, and then sighed. “I need to think about all of this,” she added. “Everything you’ve told me … it’s a lot.”

“Does it … change how you feel about me?” Loki could hardly bear to ask the question, but if she no longer loved him, then it was better to face it now.

“No,” she said quickly. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I don’t particularly like everything you’ve done, I won’t lie to you about that. I understand, though, where you were coming from when you made the choices you did.”

It was more than he deserved, and Loki’s chest sagged a little as he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Really?”

Brunnhilde nodded. She reached out and brushed back some of his hair. “I think you’ve been treated very unfairly for a very long time, Loki. I don’t have any room to judge you. And I _know_ you. You’re so much more than the choices you’ve made.”

Loki sat up. He couldn’t help reaching for her, then, cradling her face in his hands as he pulled her to him and kissed her, urgently and deeply. She sighed into his mouth, sliding her arms around his shoulders. When they broke apart, Loki rested his forehead against hers. “You’re the only one I’ve told these things to,” he murmured. “The only one I can be completely honest with. I love you, Brunn.”

“I love you, too,” she said, without pause or hesitation, as she tilted her head and kissed him again.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m playing with the timeline a bit here in regards to Brunn’s age. In Sanctuary, chapter 19, she mentioned she was born into a noble family which she later left to join the Valkyrie. In chapter 26, she told Loki that Frigga wasn’t Hela’s mother. We know from Thor Ragnarok that Brunn was an adult when the Valkyrie fell. We also know that, despite the slaughter having taken place a long time before the events of TR, she is identical in age and appearance. She also seems very close to Thor and Loki’s physical/emotional age. So even if she’s older, she still seems to be within the age range that she would be a peer to Thor and Loki, whereas Hela seems a bit older than all of them.
> 
> I had also been operating under the assumption that Hela was cast out before Thor and Loki were born. But the movie never actually _says_ this; Odin simply says she’s his first-born and that he banished her when she grew too powerful, while Hela herself says to Thor that Odin decided to become a benevolent god and “to have _you,_ ” which could imply that Hela was around and aware of Thor’s existence, even if Thor was too young to remember her before she was banished.
> 
> Brunn says this in TR: “When [Hela’s power] grew beyond Odin’s control, she massacred everyone in the palace and tried to seize the throne. When she tried to escape her banishment, he sent the Valkyrie in to fight her back.” This implies that Hela had been banished for awhile before she tried to escape, which is when the Valkyrie fell and a case could be made that a fair bit of time passed between the palace massacre and her escape attempt. I’m taking that case and running with it. 
> 
> So, for the purpose of this story, I’m choosing to interpret that the palace massacre took place _before_ Loki was born, but the Valkyrie massacre happened _after,_ when he and Thor were young children. In my head, the timeline goes like this: 
> 
> \- Odin and Hela are conquerors. Hela’s mother dies. Brunn is born.  
> \- Odin decides to be benevolent. Hela is not happy.  
> \- Odin marries Frigga. Brunn is a young child. Thor is born.  
> \- Hela revolts and tries to seize power. Thor and Frigga survive the palace massacre; Odin overpowers and imprisons Hela in the dungeons.  
> \- The war with Jotunheim happens. Loki is born.  
> \- Hela tries to escape. Odin sends in the Valkyries, who are killed. Brunn is an older teen/young adult.  
> \- ??? (I have no idea how Odin stopped Hela, if the Valkyries were killed, but I guess we can assume he somehow did. She is banished to some kind of other dimension.)  
> \- Thor and Loki are too young to remember any of this.  
> \- Brunn leaves Asgard.  
> \- Hela is forgotten.  
> \- Thor and Loki grow up in blissful ignorance.
> 
> So, even though Brunn is Thor and Loki’s peer, she’s still decently older than them and obviously remembers a lot more about the circumstances surrounding Hela, up until the Valkyries fell. Presumably, she also remembers the war with Jotunheim and was probably cognizant of how public opinion turned against the Jotuns after their defeat. 
> 
> **Tl;dr:** Mental gymnastics; Brunn knows/remembers a lot about Asgard and Hela because I say so. XD  
>  ____
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and support! Feel free to say hi to me on tumblr, @iamanartichoke XD <3


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has a proposition for Loki. Sif isn't pleased, but Tony is starting to come around to something resembling acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize an entire month had passed since I updated. Therefore, I offer this carefully written yet shoddily edited chapter to Loki, god of fanfic, and to all you lovely readers, whose comments keep me going and who deserve faster updates.

 

**VIII.  
**

 

Things fell into a routine, more or less. Loki found that the day-to-day life of New Asgard did not differ so greatly from what he’d known growing up in the palace. Thor’s government was tiny, and his council only consisted of Heimdall, Sif, Brunnhilde, and now Loki - but, that said, Loki was impressed (and a little surprised) to learn that Thor ran things very tightly and efficiently. 

Council meetings were an almost daily occurrence, although Loki sat out often. He didn’t like being around Heimdall and Sif. Heimdall still treated Loki with civility, but the first time Loki and Sif saw one another - about four days after Loki’s return from the Raft - they’d regarded one another with open hostility, gazes equally wary. 

Sif had broken the silence first. “Welcome home, Loki,” she said coolly. 

Loki had smirked. “I almost believed that was sincere, Sif,” he replied. 

They’d been pointedly ignoring one another ever since, which made for very uncomfortable interactions. 

It seemed easier for Loki to spare everyone the awkwardness and make himself scarce. He felt fairly useless, anyway - a lot of Thor’s work involved politics and trade and, therefore, took him outside of New Asgard, where Loki was forbidden to go. Political liaisons were held with Tony Stark at the Avengers compound, or with General Ross and some of his teammates in New York City or Washington, D.C. Thor usually brought Heimdall and Brunnhilde or Sif with him to those meetings and, more often than not, he returned in a sour mood, which Loki could only assume was a natural side effect of spending prolonged amounts of time in General Ross’s presence. 

Loki was especially impressed with the trade deal Thor had negotiated with a few of Midgard’s countries. New Asgard sent its marketable goods - huge fruits and vegetables full of nutrients, medical supplies, strong mead and ale, and so on - to a few select countries (approved by the U.N., of course) and, in exchange, received Midgardian products such as sugar, meat, pre-packaged products like cereal, and practical necessities like batteries. They were even importing materials like cotton, wool, and denim so that the Asgardian seamsters could produce their own clothing and linens to sell in New Asgard directly. 

The economy was flourishing under Thor’s reign, its coffers being built back up. The only things that Thor hadn’t arranged trade for were electronics, which Tony Stark insisted on supplying himself, and weaponry. Thor said that even the most basic Asgardian weapons were too strong for any humans to use and that trading or selling them was bound to create chaos in some form or another. The U.N. and SHIELD agreed. 

Somewhere in the past year, while Loki wasted away in the Raft, Thor had come fully into his role as king. It pleased Loki at the same time that it made him nervous, for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. 

Loki tried not to think about it. He mostly kept to himself, though withdrawing seemed to agitate Thor, which in turn would irritate Loki. Several times, Thor would say, “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay, Loki?” and Loki would snap, “I’m  _ fine _ , Thor.” 

“I’m just  _ asking _ ,” Thor would say defensively. 

“You’ve asked a million times. Stop. Leave me alone,” Loki would retort. 

“Fine,” Thor would huff, and they’d more or less avoid each other for awhile after that. 

It wasn’t that Loki  _ wasn’t _ fine, or that he was unhappy, exactly (although he was never  _ happy _ , either). Loki did feel less like an oddity and more like an actual member of the household as the days passed. It was just that he felt very useless. He wasn’t sleeping well; he still had nightmares. And even though everything he’d shared with Brunnhilde had made him feel as if a significant weight had lifted from his chest, sometimes it felt like the weight had simply  _ moved _ rather than  _ disappeared _ . It settled behind his ribs or at the pit of his stomach instead. 

It was simply anxiety, and there wasn’t anything Thor could do about that. 

“Tell him that, then,” Brunnhilde said, when Loki complained about it to her. 

“Anything I tell him, he worries about,” Loki countered. “Thor’s hero complex knows no bounds.” 

“That may be true, but snapping at him isn’t getting you anywhere, either,” she pointed out, and Loki had to concede that she was right. 

Still, things could have been worse. 

Life was simple. Every day, Thor made pancakes. It seemed to be his favorite breakfast food, and Loki found it strange to realize that he was still learning new things about his brother. Sometimes, pancakes were the main course for everyone; other times, only Thor ate them, while the others indulged in oatmeal, or eggs, or cold cereal with milk. Loki discovered a sugary cereal called Trix that he couldn’t get enough of and, once Thor realized it, he made sure there were always several boxes on hand. 

When Thor went off to be king, Brunnhilde would leave to meet Sif and spend their days with the military recruits. Sometimes, Heimdall went with them but mostly he really did go and take up watch at the gates of New Asgard. He’d stand out there for hours, the way he used to stand in the observatory. To the casual observer, his golden eyes stared out at nothing; in truth, Heimdall kept his watchful gaze on the rest of the Nine Realms, and as far as he could see, Asgard’s enemies were quiet. After darkness fell he would check in with Thor, report what he’d seen, and then either retire or return to the gates to watch through the night. Loki found the whole thing a little hilarious. The intimidating Gatekeeper, with his enormous sword, was more comical than imposing without the magnificence of the Bifrost observatory at his heels. 

Of course, Heimdall was the only warning standing between Loki and Thanos, and  _ that _ thought was not nearly as funny to ponder. Loki never outright asked about Thanos, nor did Heimdall volunteer any information specifically, but Thor promised that if anything changed, Loki would be the first to know. 

Often, it was simply Loki and Dagny at home every day. Dagny was very interested in Midgardian fruits and vegetables. She had her own garden in the backyard and often contributed strawberries and raspberries to breakfasts and carrots, radishes, and broccoli to dinners. 

When she wasn’t in her garden, she was on the back porch, which had become something resembling a workspace for automobile parts. She liked to take engines apart and put them back together again. Loki never asked where she  _ found _ all of the parts she lugged home, because she seemed happy enough and no one else said anything about it, but there was something about it that made him want to feel sorry for her, and he didn’t know why. 

Rather than ponder on it, Loki kept himself busy by maintaining things around the house when everyone else was gone. He usually cleaned up the dishes after a meal (since he never offered much in the way of cooking), kept the common areas clear of clutter, and settled himself into his bedroom by furnishing it with items he pulled from his pocket dimension. He’d been tucking things away for centuries and, as such, he probably possessed more artifacts of Asgard-of-old than anyone realized.  Some of what he hoarded was valuable; most was merely sentimental, like Brunnhilde’s letters, which he kept in a small glass box, or a couple of tapestries from his old chambers in the palace, which Frigga had woven for him when he was a child. He also had a lot of elixirs and spell books and things of that sort, which he placed strategically on the bookshelves and bespelled so that they could not be touched by anyone other than himself. He didn’t think anyone in the house would bother them (except, perhaps, Heimdall - one never knew  _ what _ he was capable of) but it was better to be safe than sorry. Or so the saying went. 

One night, about two weeks after Loki had been released, Thor knocked on his bedroom door, which was ajar.  “Can I come in?” 

“It’s your house,” Loki said. He was sitting at his desk, absently turning the pages of an ancient grimoire he’d forgotten he had. 

“Not just mine,” Thor answered. He pushed the door open all the way and approached, his gaze flicking from the magic book to all the little personal touches Loki had added to his room. “It’s everyone’s - including yours.” 

Loki made a small noise in his throat. “Everything that’s ever been  _ ours  _ was really only  _ yours _ , brother. We both know that.” 

“That’s not true,” Thor protested. “Why would you even say that?” 

Loki just shrugged and closed the grimoire. “Did you want something?” 

A dozen expressions flickered across Thor’s face before he finally settled on resignation. Dealing with Loki’s mood swings must take its toll on him, Loki thought. “Yes, actually,” Thor said. He dropped down on the edge of Loki’s bed, leaning his weight back on his palms. “I wanted to ask for your help with something.” 

That, Loki was not expecting. He turned in his chair so that he was facing Thor, one eyebrow arched coolly so as not to betray his curiosity. “Oh? With what?” 

Thor pressed his lips together. He seemed to be gathering his courage, which was  _ very _ strange. “A couple of days ago,” he began, “when I met with Tony, he told me he’d heard from - um, from Jane. Jane Foster,” Thor added, as if Loki were too stupid to know immediately who he was talking about.  _ Jane _ may have been a common Midgardian name, but there was only  _ one  _ Jane in the Nine Realms whom Thor cared anything about. “She’s been abroad the last eight months, you know, doing, uh, science stuff, and she’s just gotten back to the States.” 

“Doing  _ science stuff _ ,” Loki repeated. It wasn’t often that Thor stumbled over his words; it wasn’t often Thor got agitated like this, for that matter. “So … what, she wants to meet with you? What does that have to do with me?” 

“Figures you’d focus on the part that has to do with  _ you _ ,” Thor retorted. There was a faint blush in his cheeks. 

“You’re the one who said you need my help,” Loki shot back. 

Thor grumbled something under his breath as he pushed his hands from his cheeks to his forehead and finally through his cropped hair. 

“All right, yes, I need your help,” Thor said. “It’s not what you think. It has nothing to do with me and Jane. Not like  _ that _ , anyway. Jane’s done a lot of groundbreaking - for Midgard - work on interdimensional travel. She was already well-versed before I even met her and then, after she traveled to Asgard, her progress just … took off. She won a Nobel Prize,” Thor added, with a touch of pride. 

Loki merely hummed in acknowledgement. He did not know what a Nobel Prize was, but obviously it was something rather prestigious, from the way Thor looked. 

“Anyway, Tony says that Jane intends to be in the States for the foreseeable future and that she wants to help me - I mean, New Asgard - rebuild the Bifrost. With her research and our resources, she thinks that we could make significant progress.” 

“Oh.” Loki blew out his breath. He still had no idea what any of this had to do with him. “Why didn’t she come to you directly? Why involve Tony?” 

Thor shook his head and looked down at his hands. He began picking at one of his fingernails. “I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do,” Loki said, after watching Thor fidget for a full minute. 

“Fine.” Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. “For one thing, it’s awkward between us and for another thing, she wants the whole thing to be … like a business arrangement.  _ A mutually beneficial relationship _ , I believe Tony quoted. If she goes through the correct political channels, then if we do succeed in rebuilding the Bifrost, that means that the humans can use it, too. It won’t be just ours.” 

Loki scoffed; he couldn’t help himself. “What do the humans expect to do with a Bifrost?” 

“Explore the galaxy, of course,” Thor responded. 

“So, let me get this straight.” Loki leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed Thor with an even stare. He was satisfied when Thor flinched a little under the weight of it. “Jane wants Earth to have a Bifrost, and she wants to go through us to get it. And you want to help her because - what, you’re still in love with her? Even though she’s  _ using _ you?” 

“No,” Thor snapped, and now he straightened and returned Loki’s hard stare. There were tight lines around his mouth. “Jane isn’t  _ using _ me, Loki. She’s devoted her entire  _ life  _ to exploring what lies beyond Midgard. It’s her dream. And it would be a huge benefit to us. Besides, it’s not like the Bifrost would be available to just any human who wanted to use it. The government has protocols about that kind of thing. I don’t trust Ross, but I  _ do _ trust Tony - and SHIELD.” 

“SHIELD,” Loki repeated incredulously. “The same SHIELD that, apparently, collapsed in on itself once all the corrupt traitors lurking within it decided they were tired of hiding?” 

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you that,” Thor grumbled. “That was the  _ old  _ SHIELD. Mack - Agent Mackenzie, you remember - is director now, and he’s nothing like Fury. Fury’s secrets aided in the downfall of SHIELD. Some people were just caught in the crossfire. We can trust Mack.”

Loki thought back to Ross’s interrogation. He did remember Agent Mackenzie; he remembered the man’s cool demeanor and willingness to hear what Loki had to say, despite the distrust that he clearly felt. Loki also remembered Agent Johnson, Mack’s - subordinate? Sidekick? - and her open hostility. “And what makes this  _ Mack _ so trustworthy?” 

“Experience,” Thor said simply. “I’ve gotten to know him and his team well over the last year. Sif can vouch for them, too.” 

“Oh, well. If  _ Sif  _ can vouch for them,” Loki said. 

“Don’t be like that. Look, I can’t just say the words and make you trust SHIELD, but you can trust my judgement, can’t you? Or at least -” his mouth quirked - “you can say  _ I told you so _ if I turn out to be wrong.” 

Loki regarded Thor closely. It was true, nothing Thor could say would convince Loki of SHIELD’s trustworthiness, but he had to admit that Thor had been doing a fine job so far of making the decisions. “Well, there’s bound to be some satisfaction in that,” he conceded. 

Thor smiled, both amused and affectionate and, despite himself, Loki smiled back. They watched one another for several beats and then Loki cleared his throat. 

“It seems like you’ve made up your mind to do this, then,” he said. “What do you need me for?” 

“Ah, well, that’s the thing,” Thor said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You understand interdimensional travel as I do not. As _ most _ do not. You have your secret pathways, your hidden roads. You know what makes the Bifrost work and you’re an  _ expert _ on the Tesseract. Even though we don’t have it anymore, you have the knowledge.” He lifted his eyebrows at Loki pointedly. “You see what I’m getting at, don’t you?” 

Loki swallowed hard. He had a sudden flash of a much younger Thor, all eager smiles and honeyed words, flattering Sif and the Warriors Three into breaking the Allfather’s command and traveling with him to Jotunheim. This Thor was very far removed from that foolish boy, but he still had the same hopeful spark behind his real eye. It was that hopeful spark that had turned to Loki and said,  _ you are coming, aren’t you?  _

And Loki couldn’t have said no if his life depended on it - which, it very nearly  _ had _ .

“Thor,” Loki groaned, pressing his fingertips to his temples. “Please don’t tell me you want me to help Jane build her Bifrost.” 

“I want you to help Jane build her Bifrost.” 

Loki groaned again. 

“You’re much better equipped than I am to help,” Thor continued. “I’m afraid I’d only hinder the process.” 

Loki rubbed his eyes. Resentment stuck in the back of his throat so tightly that for a moment he couldn’t breathe. “If you’re going to try to manipulate me into doing something for you, brother,” he said, dropping his hands, “you should at least learn to lie better.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you aren’t stupid - much as I am loathe to admit it. You’re capable of helping Jane. You just don’t want to because you don’t want to spend time with her after she - what was the word?  _ Dumped _ you.” 

“She didn’t dump me,” Thor snapped. “I told you, we just … we grew apart.” Abruptly, he got to his feet. He wandered over to one of the bay windows. It was dark outside; this time of year, nightfall came earlier and earlier as autumn faded into winter. There was nothing to see, yet Thor fixed his gaze outside as if he were Heimdall watching the entirety of the Nine Realms beyond the glass. 

“We grew apart,” he said again. 

“Because of her work,” Loki guessed; he vaguely remembered Thor speaking about it back on Deaphus. “And yours, with the Avengers, yes?”

Thor made a noncommittal sound. 

Loki let a few beats pass. “Well, if those are the only reasons you two parted ways, then surely you could reconcile. She’ll be here now, and the Avengers are no longer an issue for you. Right?” 

Thor said nothing, just continued staring out the window, his arms folded. 

“Thor?” 

“What do  _ you  _ have against Jane?” Thor asked abruptly, turning to face Loki again. “Why don’t you want to work with her? She never did anything to you.” 

Loki felt his features harden. His feelings regarding Jane were complicated. For a long time, he’d resented her for taking Thor away, for changing Thor in all the ways Loki couldn’t. Thor had been banished for his own foolish hotheadedness; he’d returned worthy of the throne, but he’d also returned ready and willing to strike Loki down. 

Jane was the catalyst that had pushed Thor over the edge into the sanctimonious heroism he’d used as justification to turn on Loki and destroy Loki’s plans to prove himself a worthy son - a worthy  _ king _ \- to Odin. 

It left a bitter taste in Loki’s mouth when he thought of it. 

Yet even he had to concede that he could move past it, theoretically. He had changed much since then, and he could see now that Thor had not been _ entirely _ wrong in his actions. It was as Brunnhilde said: they’d all made terrible choices, including Loki.  Loki didn’t hold a grudge for those events. Not much of one, anyway. 

But then there had been the Aether. 

Malekith. 

Frigga. 

Loki knew that Jane wasn’t responsible for Frigga’s death. He  _ knew  _ that. Jane had been as unfortunate a bystander as the rest of them - she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was all. 

And yet … knowing something intellectually was not the same as accepting it emotionally. Loki associated Jane too strongly with the darkest point in his life - his imprisonment, his alienation from Thor,  _ his mother’s death, _ his own sacrifice. 

It was impossible to think of Jane Foster and not remember how utterly  _ wrecked _ Loki had been then. Thinking of her triggered memories Loki would much rather forget and, truth be told, it had been a relief to learn that Thor no longer associated with her, that Loki would probably never have to see her again. 

Until now, it would seem. And Thor may have ended his relationship with her, but he was clearly nowhere near _ over  _ her. 

“Answer the question, Loki.” Thor’s voice broke into Loki’s thoughts. Loki lifted his gaze; Thor was staring at him with his brow furrowed, his real eye alight with something that could have been grief. It just as easily could have been suspicion, as if he knew Loki’s feelings and wanted to hear Loki speak them aloud. 

There would be no point in that, Loki thought. The best case scenario would be that Thor would side with Jane over Loki’s _ imagined slights _ ; the worst case scenario would be that bringing up that horrible time would send a fissure right through the core of the tenuous peace Loki and Thor had been working so hard to establish. It was a harsh reminder of all the things yet unspoken between them, all of the volatile things that could send them careening right back into bitter resentment, at odds once again. 

“I have nothing against Jane personally,” Loki said. “I just … don’t particularly care for her, is all.” 

Thor rolled his eyes. “That was a pitiful lie, Loki.”

Perhaps so, but - “What does it matter what I feel? It wouldn’t even be a problem if you weren’t too wrapped up in your own issues with her to do what needs to be done.”  

Thor fell silent, his expression unreadable. He had gotten so much better at shielding his emotions, Loki thought; once, he’d worn his heart on his sleeve but since becoming king, he’d learned to tuck away what made him vulnerable, lest it be used against him the moment he let his guard down. 

Loki didn’t like it. 

Yet, more than that, he didn’t like the unease gnawing at his core. He didn’t want to fight with Thor. “If you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, letting out a breath, “I won’t push you. If you want me to help Jane with the Bifrost, I will. You’ve done enough for me so I owe you that, at least.” 

Thor remained impassive for another moment before he, too, sighed. His shoulders slumped a bit. “You don’t owe me anything, brother,” he replied, sounding exhausted. “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.” 

Loki shook his head. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with. Besides, Thor had done so much for him since they’d returned to Earth and Loki couldn’t do this one thing for Thor? When Thor never asked him for anything? “I want to,” he said resolutely. “I can put aside my feelings for Jane. And we do need a Bifrost.” 

“We do,” Thor conceded. “Thank you, Loki.” 

Loki nodded. A heavy silence fell over them as they watched one another. Loki rubbed his thumbnail against the palm of his hand while Thor unfolded his arms and twisted his fingers together. 

“Are you ever going to tell me?” Loki finally asked. His voice sounded terribly loud to his ears.

“Tell you what?” 

“What  _ really _ happened with Jane.” 

Thor averted his gaze. “Maybe,” he said. “Not tonight.” 

That was fair enough. Loki hesitated and then rose, stepping close enough to reach out and touch Thor’s shoulder. He gave the barest hint of a squeeze and then withdrew. Thor looked up and forced a smile, but not  even his real eye reflected it.

* * *

It turned out that getting Loki to agree to help Jane was only the first step in the battle. Not only did General Ross have to approve the project, but he also had to be convinced to modify the terms of Loki’s conditional release in order to allow him to travel outside of New Asgard to the Avengers compound.

“He doesn’t like it,” Tony Stark said, a couple of days later. Tony and Rhodes had driven out to New Asgard in order to meet with Thor and the rest of the council to discuss how to move forward. 

They were all sitting around the table in the dining room, where council meetings were usually held. Loki reflected that it was hardly the most professional of settings. From the window, he could see Dagny fiddling with her automobile parts on the back porch. 

“If he wants Earth to have access to the Bifrost,” Thor said, in response to Tony, “he’s going to have to suck it up. Loki’s the best person we have for the job.” 

Loki shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Sif let out a barely audible snort. 

“Are you really that good at this stuff?” Rhodes asked Loki. 

“ _ Good _ is subjective,” Loki replied. “But I know how  _ this stuff  _ works, yes.”

“So does Heimdall,” Sif interjected. She was sitting rigidly in her chair, her hands clasped tightly on the table in front of her. “Forgive me, Thor, but I must remind you that Heimdall has been Asgard’s Gatekeeper for millennia. Certainly,  _ he _ can aid Jane Foster in the construction of a new Bifrost.” 

Thor pressed his lips in a thin line as he glared at Sif. “I don’t need to be reminded, Sif. Heimdall’s gift -” 

“Doesn’t work that way,” Heimdall finished smoothly. “It was always my duty to protect the Bifrost and the throne. That is not the same thing as  creating it.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Loki agreed. He wanted to gloat at the irritation that swept over Sif’s features, but a glance at Brunnhilde - who arched an eyebrow as if she knew exactly what he was thinking - made him swallow the urge back down. “I would hope that you wouldn’t let your grudge against me interfere with the good of New Asgard,” he said instead. 

Okay, so he was only gloating a _ little _ . 

Brunnhilde kicked his ankle underneath the table. 

“I hold no grudge against you,” Sif replied. “It is the good of New Asgard that concerns me. Certainly I am not alone in remembering that we have good reason to be wary of your intentions.” 

Tony cleared his throat loudly, before Loki could reply. “Look,” he said, when they all looked at him. “Whatever the story is here, we need to get it straight and get on the same page before we bring any of this to Ross. So maybe you two ought to kiss and make up sooner rather than later.” 

Loki and Sif glowered at one another. 

For several moments, there was only silence. Then the tea kettle whistled loudly, cutting through the strained atmosphere and making Loki jump.

Heimdall rose. “Lady Sif, will you assist me in retrieving the refreshments?” he asked. 

Sif tossed one more scowl Loki’s way before she got to her feet. “Fine.” 

When Heimdall and Sif disappeared into the kitchen, Brunnhilde turned to Thor. “I understand where Sif is coming from,” she said, which made Loki frown, “but Tony’s right, it doesn’t do any good for us to be arguing over whether or not Loki can be trusted. Ross will pick up on that in a nanosecond.” 

“He doesn’t miss a thing,” Tony agreed with a dramatic eye roll. “And he’s just looking for any excuse to toss Loki back into the Raft, anyway.” 

That made Thor’s eye flicker with irritation. “Loki has served his time.” 

“Yes, but Loki is technically on probation,” Rhodes countered. “One wrong move and his release will be rescinded. That’s how Ross works. He’ll give you what you want, but only after he’s made you beg for it. And he makes damn certain he can take it away again whenever he pleases.” 

Loki loathed being talked about as if he wasn’t there. “Then it does not matter what I do,” he spoke up, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “Ross’s mind is made up about me and there is no changing it.” 

Brunnhilde clasped his hand beneath the table and squeezed his fingers. Aloud, she said, “Well, forget Ross, then. He isn’t the be-all, end-all, is he?” 

“No,” Tony admitted. “He’s got a lot of political power, but - well, checks and balances. If we can’t get him on board with the Bifrost, I’m sure we can figure out an alternative. And it’s not like he can just decide on a whim to toss Loki back in prison.” 

“That said, it’ll make everyone’s lives easier if he’s on our side,” Rhodes added. 

“Yeah. For one thing, there’s not enough scotch in the world to ease the headache of being on the wrong side of Ross,” Tony said with a grin. 

“Then we are going ahead with this?” Sif returned in time to hear Tony’s words. She was carrying a tray with both a teapot and a coffee pot on it, along with small containers of milk and sugar. Heimdall was not far behind her with an assortment of mugs and tea bags. 

“Yes,” Thor said, decisively. He and Sif locked gazes for a long moment. Sif looked away first, setting her tray down on the table. “I hear your concerns, Sif, but the potential benefits of having access to the Bifrost outweigh the risks.” 

“Very well, then,” Sif said tightly. She took her seat again and reached for a mug, filling it with hot water from the teapot without looking at anyone. 

Brunnhilde let go of Loki’s hand and he sat back, his gaze flicking wearily around the table. He was so tired of seeing resignation on people’s faces when it came to anything involving him. He met Thor’s eyes and his brother offered him a strained smile, which Loki did his best to return, despite the slow churning in his stomach. 

“So what do we do next?” Brunnhilde asked. “To get this going?” 

“I’ll set up a meeting with Ross. He likes me better,” Rhodes said to Tony, who rolled his eyes and swallowed a large sip of coffee in response. “Get things squared away on his end. Thor, you should be there for that to make a case both for your brother and for the necessity of the Bifrost.” 

“Meanwhile,” Tony said, “I’ll touch base with Jane and start putting together a team. We could use Banner on this one, right? Besides Jane, he’s the only one who’s traveled through one of those portal doo-hickeys. Who else? SHIELD?” 

Sif nodded. “I can speak with Mack and see what role he and his team want to play.” 

“That would be good,” Brunnhilde agreed. “I’m sure they’ll want to be involved.” 

“Then - unless anyone has anything else?” Thor paused and looked around the table, but no one said anything, so he nodded and got to his feet. “Sounds like we’ve all got some work to do.” 

* * *

They all dispersed. Sif let herself out of the house without saying anything to anyone, followed closely by Heimdall. Brunnhilde moved to Loki’s side as Loki watched them go. “Try not to worry about it,” she suggested after a moment. “Sif will come around eventually. She’s stubborn, is all.”

Loki shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does,” Brunnhilde countered. “If for no other reason than we all have to work together.” 

That, Loki had to concede to. “Yes, we do,” he said, pushing a tired hand through his hair. “For the record, I’m not  _ trying  _ to antagonize her. We just … bring out the worst in one another, I think.” 

Brunnhilde hummed. “I know, love.” She leaned in and kissed him, soft but lingering. “I’m going to go check on Dagny. Norns know what she’s up to out there. You okay?” 

Loki nodded. 

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand and then headed for the back porch. When she was gone, Loki caught Tony’s gaze. Tony murmured something to Rhodes and Thor and stepped away from them, choosing to approach Loki instead. 

“Mr. Stark,” Loki greeted politely. 

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Tony replied. “You sound like my seventeen-year-old protégé.  _ Tony _ is fine.” 

It took Loki a moment to remember. “Oh, of course,” he said. He picked up one of the mugs from the table and began preparing himself a cup of tea, just so he would have something to do with his hands. “The neighborhood spider boy, yes?” 

“Spider- _ man, _ ” Tony corrected automatically. He tilted his head and made a face. “Okay, well, more boy than man - but, don’t tell him I said so.” 

“I don’t see how that’s possible, as I don’t expect to ever find myself in conversation with him,” Loki replied. He chose a sachet of Earl Gray tea and dipped it into the water. He still wasn’t overly fond of tea, but he liked watching the way the darkness of the flavor spread through the clear water. “I won’t tell him, though.” 

Tony made a sound that could have been a laugh, though when Loki looked over at him, his expression was fairly neutral. He picked up the coffee pot to top off his own drink. “Bruce had some really interesting things to say about you, you know, after you all came back,” Tony said, focusing on his coffee. 

“Mm. I’m aware.” Loki brought his mug to his lips. “A lot of people have really interesting things to say about me, Mr. Stark.” 

“You’re definitely one of the most talked-about guys I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing,” Tony agreed. “You know what’s interesting about that, though?” 

“No. What?” 

“You don’t say much about  _ yourself. _ I mean, getting anything out of you at that deposition -” 

“Interrogation,” Loki interrupted. 

“- was like pulling teeth. You’re not too eager to defend yourself, even when it would be to your benefit. You just let people say what they want.  _ Believe _ what they want. I guess I’m just curious as to why that is.” 

Loki looked away. He took another sip of his tea. Thor and Rhodes had moved into the living room, so it didn’t look as if Thor intended to rescue Loki from this conversation anytime soon. Through the window, Loki could see Dagny and Brunnhilde on the back porch. Dagny had a pair of clear, oversized goggles shoved up over her forehead and several smears of grease on her face. She was turning a tool over and over in her hands while Brunnhilde leaned over the engine parts, peering at whatever Dagny was working on. 

Perception was a strange thing, Loki thought, returning his gaze to Tony. From where Tony stood, Loki simply let others believe what they wanted about him without care to correct their often misguided assumptions. From Loki’s point-of-view, it was only that he’d given up after learning, long ago, that anything he had to say for himself more often than not simply fell on deaf ears. 

Brunnhilde listened to him. She’d heard every word of what he had to say for himself, and she’d come to her own conclusions about Loki’s character. Perhaps, those conclusions were not as favorable as Loki might have wished - but, she was honest about it and she loved him regardless. He couldn’t ask for more than that. 

Thor, too, was starting to listen to Loki. He was much less likely these days to brush Loki’s feelings off as imaginary or invalid, which was a drastic change from how it had been for most of their lives. One step forward, three steps back, but nevertheless, they maintained a steady footing. 

No one else  _ truly _ mattered. Not even Sif. 

“It’s as I said before,” he finally answered, wrapping his hands around his mug. The water was still hot enough to sting his palms. “People’s minds are already made up. Ross’s, Sif’s, yours. What difference would my own defense make? They do call me the god of lies, after all.” 

“As I recall, you said you weren’t the god of anything,” Tony countered. “My mind isn’t made up. Far from it, which is why I’m even asking you this.” 

“I can’t make it up for you, if that’s what you’re looking for.” 

“No. Just feeling you out, I guess.” Tony took a long sip of his coffee, never taking his eyes off of Loki.

Loki met his stare evenly. “You know, Thor said to me - before we came here - that you were different from the others. Reasonable. I told him I’d thrown you out of your own window and that I very much doubted you’d be inclined to listen to anything I had to say after that.” 

“Trust me, that little freefall is the _least_ of my worries, where you’re concerned,” Tony said dryly. A smirk ghosted across his face, gone again in an instant. “But I am inclined to listen … should you decide you have anything to say to me.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Stark.” 

“Do that.” Tony set his mug down on the table and reached out, clapping Loki on the shoulder so swiftly that he was already drawing back again before Loki even had time to be appalled at the touch. “Talk to you soon, Reindeer Games.” 

“My name is  _ Loki _ ,” was all Loki could manage. 

“And mine’s Tony,” came the reply as Tony wandered out to the living room to join Thor and Rhodes.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thor says that Fury’s secrets contributed to the downfall of SHIELD but I want to make it clear that this is Thor’s interpretation of the events, as he’s been told them, not the author’s assertion that that’s what happened. I realize it was much more complicated than that.
> 
> That said, I’m following the canon that was set up in The Winter Soldier about how SHIELD fell. In Agents of SHIELD, and in this story, Mack, Coulson, Daisy, etc., were very much bystanders caught in the crossfire. The fallout of said events as they happened to the team specifically aren’t particularly relevant to this story, though.
> 
> 2\. Since Infinity War doesn’t exist in this universe, I’m ignoring that whole “let the dark magic flow through me” nonsense Heimdall used to send Hulk to Earth. My interpretation is that Heimdall can operate the Bifrost, but he can’t create it. 
> 
> 3\. Comments keep me going. Thank you all so much for your continued support. Feel free to say hi to me on tumblr at @iamanartichoke! <3 <3 <3


	9. IX.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki plays a game with Dagny, has a talk with Brunnhilde, and makes plans with Thor to start the Bifrost project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tumbles in three months later, out of breath and with Starbucks* Okay, so, I’m not exactly off of hiatus with this story; I’m just kind of stumbling along here, trying to find my footing again. Here’s an update in the meantime. 
> 
> A quick recap, since it’s been quite awhile: Loki’s been released from the Raft after a year and is trying to find his place with Thor, Brunnhilde, and in New Asgard in general. (This is not the New Asgard of Endgame, btw; this is a little suburban development in New York.)
> 
> As of last chapter, Thor has asked Loki to help Jane Foster with building a new Bifrost, and the usual suspects have had a meeting to discuss how to proceed and whether or not General Ross will allow Loki outside of New Asgard in order to work on the project at the compound.
> 
> This chapter picks up later that same night.

 

**IX.  
**

Once, Loki had been so attuned to his surroundings that it was nearly impossible to catch him by surprise.

There were a few who could, of course. Heimdall, who moved so swiftly and silently that Loki could never quite keep a step ahead of him. Frigga, certainly. Agent Romanoff, whom Loki sometimes thought of, wondering if she’d yet wiped her ledger clean. Thor, _almost_ never.

Loki’s cognizance of his environment - and the people in it - was second nature to him, like the magic in his core. It had heightened during his time on Sanctuary, where he would not - _could_ not - rest for a second, lest his tormentors take him by surprise. His time in the Raft, however, seemed to have had the opposite effect. It dulled his senses.

Perhaps, it was simply too many months spent in isolation. In the dark silence of the prison, Loki had little choice but to retreat into his own thoughts, keeping his mind active, lest he succumb to lethargy and madness. Unfortunately, the lines between conscious thought and nightmarish memory - not to mention the _actual_ nightmares, when he did manage to sleep - often blurred. It was easy to get lost.

Easier still to stay lost. Where Loki once vibrated in tune with the energy around him, aware of every shift in the air, he was now tilted and flat. It meant he was caught by surprise more often than not - an unnerving, irritating development, in more ways than one.

That evening, it was Dagny who startled him. Loki was cleaning the kitchen after dinner, as had generally become his chore, as he never contributed in the way of cooking. He was bent over the dishwasher, loading it up and thinking of how absurd it was that this was how he spent his time these days, when a soft voice said, “Loki?”

Loki’s heart leapt into his throat. The plate he was holding slipped from his fingers and tumbled into the dish rack with a crash.

“Goddamn it,” he snapped as he looked up. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but when he saw Dagny staring at him, wide-eyed, he blew out his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Dagny said, twisting her fingers together. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I - it’s okay.” Loki’s heart rate was already slowing back down again but he took a moment to draw in a breath and let it out again slowly. While he did so, he ducked his head and examined the dish he’d dropped. There was a slight crack along the edge, but it didn’t look too bad. Loki set it straight and then looked up again.

“Sorry,” he echoed. “For shouting at you just now.”

Dagny’s shoulders rose and fell. “It’s okay.”

They eyed one another uneasily. Even though she lived in the same house with all of them and was, arguably, part of their weird little family - or whatever they all were - Loki hadn’t really spoken to her much, save for that first day when he’d returned from the Raft. They acknowledged one another in passing, mostly, when it was just the two of them at home during the day, but they largely left one another alone - Dagny for her own reasons, Loki because he was Loki.

“Did you need something?” Loki asked, when the uncomfortable silence stretched. He busied himself with grabbing the last of the plates from the sink and transferring them to the dishwasher.

“No,” she said. There was a pause. “Maybe. I was just …” She trailed off.

“Just …” he prompted.

Dagny shifted her weight. “I’m bored,” she admitted. “I wondered if you wanted to play a game of _hnefatafl_ with me.”

“Oh.” Loki closed the dishwasher door and flipped the switch. A moment later, the machine roared to life. He glanced at Dagny out of the corner of his eye. She looked so uneasy that Loki had to wonder if that was what she’d truly come to ask him - but, he couldn’t imagine what else she’d seek him out for. Perhaps, he just made her nervous.

“Yes, all right,” he said, when he realized he’d been silent for a few beats too long. He didn’t particularly have anything better to do. Dishes and board games. This was his life now. “Fetch the board, then. Would you like me to make some tea?”

Dagny smiled, some of her unease seeming to fade. “Yes, please. Thanks.”

While she disappeared to retrieve the game board, Loki filled up the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove. Then he got out the canister of tea bags and set it on the island, along with two mugs, milk, and sugar. _Tea time_ , he thought, staring at the set up.

A long-forgotten memory flickered through him then - a sunny afternoon, any afternoon, Thor and Loki sharing tea with their mother in Frigga’s cozy kitchen nook. Thor was sneaking extra lemon bars while Loki imitated the elegant way his mother held the cup. A couple of times a month, their little routine.

As the boys got older, it was harder for Frigga to cajole them into sitting with her at the tea table. Thor was more interested in training and Loki often holed up in the library, studying or practicing spells.

Now, Loki would damn near sell his soul for five minutes of tea time with Frigga. _Two_ minutes, even.

He felt a lump in his throat and turned away from the island. He focused on the tea kettle instead and wondered what Frigga would think of the strange Midgardian contraption, of the little sachets of tea leaves. She would probably laugh at it, Loki thought, but not out of mockery. Frigga never mocked.

No, her laugh would be gentle. She would think it quaint and a bit amusing. She would compliment the humans on their ingenuity in the art of convenience, for certainly the tea kettle and bags were efficient in their way.

Before he could spiral too deeply into his thoughts, he heard Dagny’s footsteps as she returned to the kitchen, holding the _hnefatafl_ board. Loki rubbed a hand over his eyes so that his expression was clear when he faced her.

“New board,” he commented as she began setting up the game. When they had been on Deaphus, Dagny and Brunnhilde had built a crude board from materials they scrounged up from around the stronghold where they’d stayed. At some point over the last year, the makeshift board had been replaced with a smooth, clean one with shiny edges that were lined with intricate carvings of Asgardian symbols.

Dagny nodded and held up a small cloth bag. “New pieces, too,” she said, and turned the bag over. Several shiny black and white pieces spilled out. A definite upgrade from the rocks and pebbles they’d been using before. The only part of the game that was the same was Dagny’s king-piece, the most important piece, which Loki had conjured for her back on Deaphus.

“It’s beautiful,” Loki said, because it was. “Did you make it?”

She nodded again. “Brunnhilde got the materials and we made the board together. I did the carvings,” she added. She traced a finger briefly over one of the edges.

Loki hummed in acknowledgement. The tea kettle began to whistle then and Loki hurriedly picked it up from the stove. Thor had gone to bed early and Loki didn’t want the piercing whistle to wake him. As the noise faded down again, Loki brought the kettle over to the island and poured the water into each of their mugs.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he warned.

Dagny didn’t respond to that; she just opened the canister and began picking through the tea bags. Loki returned the kettle to the stove and then sat down across from her, waiting until she’d chosen her tea before he reached in and plucked a bag at random. It amused him a little to watch her add generous amounts of milk and sugar to her tea before she took a sip.

They played quietly. The game was quite simple in theory, though winning took a great amount of skill. It was a game of strategy, of calculating the opponent’s moves and defending one’s own pieces against capture or attack. Loki had always been very good at this game, but Dagny was good, too. For all her quietness, her brain worked quickly; not only did she anticipate Loki’s moves but she came up with several counter-strategies that had Loki rethinking his intended moves. After about an hour, the first game ended with Loki the victor, but just barely.

“Would you like a rematch?” Loki asked.

“Definitely,” she responded, already setting up the board again.

It wasn’t until after the second game, which Dagny won by a hair, that Loki chose to speak. “You said you used to play this a lot, didn’t you? On Asgard?”

“Yeah. Every night, practically.” Dagny didn’t look up as she began setting up the board for a third round.

“Me too.” Loki got up and went to retrieve the tea kettle. The water had gone cold by then, so he refilled it and turned on the burner. “When I was a child.”

“Did you win a lot?”

Loki nodded. He turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “So much that my brother’s friends accused me of cheating,” he admitted.

“My brother used to think I cheated,” Dagny said. She was focusing intently on the board, arranging the pieces carefully. “He’d get _so_ mad. It was kind of funny. People just don’t like it when you win too much.”

“No, they don’t.” Loki studied her. He couldn’t remember her ever saying anything in particular about her family before. “Easier to stop playing. For me.”

“My brother didn’t want to keep playing with me. He said it had gotten boring, but everyone knew it was because he was tired of losing. Mother said I should let him win a few times, to be kind, but that’s cheating, too.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you think?”

Loki tilted his head, thinking about it. “I don’t know about cheating. Certainly, it’s a dishonesty, though lies told with good intentions don’t _really_ count as lies.”

“Well.” Dagny shrugged, some of her curly hair falling over her face as she focused on the board again. “I wouldn’t do it, so we never did play anymore.”

She sat back then, the board completed. Loki drummed his fingertips against the counter, thinking. It didn’t seem quite right to close the subject, yet he was entirely unsure of what to say. “Was he younger than you or older?” Loki finally asked. “Your brother.”

“Not much younger.”

“What was his name?”

“Gunnbjörn,” she said, after a beat.

“Well.” Loki cleared his throat. A few more questions popped up - was it only the two of them, or had she more siblings? Did they otherwise get along, despite the _hnefatfl_ spats?

What had happened to her brother when Hela had come to Asgard?

Loki knew he could not ask these things. His own curiosity was not an excuse to dredge up her painful memories, and she was only a child. Furthermore, if she got upset, Loki would have no idea how to comfort her. His skin prickled with the beginnings of anxiety and he swallowed hard. Best to quit while he was ahead.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “You probably don’t like to talk about it.”

Dagny shrugged. She was still fiddling with the game piece. “Nobody ever asks,” she admitted. “Whether I want to or not.”

That took Loki by surprise. “Not even Brunnhilde?”

Dagny shook her head. “She says she doesn’t want to push me.”

“Well.” Loki frowned. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I suppose.” Dagny finally met his gaze. She didn’t look so much like a child in that moment; she looked, rather, like someone who had lost far too much in too short a life. In that, Loki thought, she was not so different from Brunnhilde, from himself and Thor.

The moment passed and Dagny’s features smoothed back into her usual, open expression. “Yes, it’s good,” she said.

Loki studied her for a beat longer. Before he could formulate some kind of proper response, however, the  tea kettle began whistling, making him start. By the time he had seen to the kettle and refilled their mugs, Dagny had moved on from the topic. “Have you heard of chess?” she asked, as Loki slid back into his seat across from her.

“Yes. The humans play it, don’t they?”

Dagny nodded, fishing a tea bag from the canister. “Tony Stark said it’s a good game - like _hnefatafl_. Maybe we could play sometime.”

“Sure,” Loki said, watching as she went about adding the milk and sugar to her tea. He took a long sip from his own mug. “Why not.”

* * *

Later that night, when Loki and Brunnhilde were curled up together in Loki’s bed, he broached the subject. “Did you know Dagny had a brother?”

Brunnhilde rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes. “No.”

“She said he used to think she cheated at _hnefatafl._ He quit playing with her.”

Brunnhilde hummed, low in her throat. “She told you that?” she asked, after a beat.

“Yes.”

A silence fell over them, brief and tense. Loki watched Brunnhilde’s face as she stared up at the ceiling. “That’s good,” she finally said, though it sounded a bit forced. “That she told you. Maybe she’s ready to talk about it.”

“She said no one asks her about her family,” Loki replied. He propped himself up on one elbow. “Why don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s my place to push her,” Brunnhilde responded. “I figured she’d come to me when she was ready.”

Dagny had said as much. “I think she wants to be asked.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I would, if I were her.”

That made Brunnhilde turn to face him again. She rolled over onto her side, mirroring his position. “You would?”

“Mhm.” Loki twisted a bit of the sheets around in his fingers. “I just … I know what it’s like to feel alone and to not know how to talk about it. The feelings - loneliness, and sadness, and resentment - can build up inside of you until you feel like you want to explode.”

“Or go mad,” Brunnhilde said softly.

Loki’s gaze turned sharp. It was the truth, of course, but he wasn’t prepared for it to be stated so plainly.

Brunnhilde seemed to realize what she’d said. “Shit. I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean -”

He shook his head, a quick movement. There was a faint gnawing feeling behind his ribs that he did his best to ignore. “My point is, maybe she _needs_ to be pushed a little.”

Brunnhilde pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze. “The thing is … I don’t know how to do that. I hadn’t actually figured out how I’d handle it if she _did_ come to me about it. She’s so quiet, I kind of got used to thinking that she _wouldn’t_. I know how that sounds,” she added, glancing up to check Loki’s expression.

“It doesn’t sound like anything,” Loki said.

“Yes it does. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Brunnhilde huffed a bit. “It sounds like I don’t care about her. It sounds like I should have thought of all this before I took her in.” Abruptly, Brunnhilde pushed herself up. She got to her feet, likely to seek out her alcohol stash, before she seemed to remember that she wasn’t in her own bedroom. Frustration flickered across her face and she sat down hard again.

The little gnawing feeling grew as Loki watched her. “Are you sorry you did? Take her in?”

For a long time, Brunnhilde didn’t respond. The lines of her back were so tense and rigid that touching them might have felt akin to skimming his fingers along a stone wall, with uneven, sharp edges. Loki balled up more of the sheet in his fist instead of reaching for her.

“No,” Brunnhilde finally answered. Her shoulders slumped a little. “I don’t know … I don’t think so. It’s just that I don’t really know what I’m _doing_ with her, Loki. I don’t know anything about raising children, and certainly not someone else’s children. We argue a lot. She thinks I coddle her, and maybe I do, but I don’t want anything to happen to her. She reminds me so much of Maj, and of Birgit, you know.”

Loki drew in a breath and held it for a few moments as he considered his response. It was true that it had been something of a surprise to all of them when Brunnhilde had singled out Dagny from the orphans and taken her into her care. Brunnhilde was not the mothering, coddling type.

It had seemed a bit nonsensical - but then, everything was so chaotic and upside down. Nothing was as it should be, after Ragnarok; Brunnhilde taking in an orphaned girl was the least of their worries.

When she’d told Loki that it was because she’d recognized Dagny as her fallen lover’s niece, however, the decision made much more sense. Brunnhilde was attached and Dagny had no one else. They’d all accepted that.

Yet Loki had to admit that he hadn’t given a great deal of thought to the long-term implications of Brunnhilde’s fostering. For better or for worse, Brunnhilde was responsible for Dagny now and that meant being responsible for her emotional well-being as much as it meant providing her with a home. It meant taking care of Dagny for who she _was_ , not for whom she reminded Brunnhilde of.

How might things have been different for Loki, had Odin taken care of him for _who_ he was, rather than _what_ he was - or what he was _expected_ to be? He knew now that Odin never _truly_ considered Loki his son. He might have cared for him, in his own way, but it wasn’t enough. When he looked at Loki, all he saw was a Jotun foundling raised to be a puppet king on a desolate throne.

The back of Loki’s throat tightened. His voice came out rough. “She isn’t Maj. Or Birgit.”

“I know that.”

“I hope you do.” Loki rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes closed against the sudden, overwhelming feeling of resentment that sprung up inside of him. For himself, for Odin, and even for Brunnhilde, for not knowing what she was getting into.

His thoughts were unfair. Loki tried to tell himself that. When he dropped his hand and opened his eyes again, he found Brunnhilde watching him, wary, as if she knew what he was thinking.

Loki sighed. “Come here,” he said, softly. He reached out a hand for her and, though she hesitated for a moment, Brunnhilde exhaled and slid her fingers against his. He tugged her closer, and Brunnhilde seemed to melt against him, burying her face in his shoulder while he combed his fingers through her curls.

“Just … try,” Loki said, when he found his voice again. “Ask her things. Even if you make mistakes … it’s better than not trying at all.”

“I know.” Brunnhilde’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I’ll try.”

* * *

It was three days after their meeting that Tony Stark called and told Thor that Ross had authorized Loki to travel to Avengers Compound.

“He wanted to make it clear that it’s _only_ the compound,” Tony said. They were in Thor’s bedroom, which doubled as Thor’s workspace. Tony was on a video call on Thor’s computer, so he could speak to both Thor and Loki at the same time.

He was sitting in his own office, leaning back in his chair, sunglasses hiding his eyes. “For the duration of the project, he’s sending up extra security  - a fine use of the taxpayers’ money - to ensure that Loki doesn’t try to escape or otherwise ‘do anything that would constitute a threat to this planet.’” Tony gave exaggerated finger quotes.

Loki made an indignant noise in his throat, but Thor held out his hand to keep Loki from replying. “We understand,” was all Thor said. “You can assure Ross that Loki won’t be a problem.”

It seemed, to Loki, that he was nothing _but_ a problem when it came to Ross. Not to mention everyone else. He dug his thumbnail into his palm, pressing hard.

“Yeah. Well, I guess we’ll see,” Tony said with a shrug. “Anyway, he’s gonna send up his watchdogs in the next day or so. Jane’s arriving tomorrow, and I got ahold of Banner, too. He says hi, Loki,” Tony added, as an afterthought.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Okay,” Thor said briskly. He didn’t acknowledge the mention of Jane’s arrival, only flashed Tony a tired smile. “The sooner we get this underway, the better.”

“Yeah, for all of us,” Tony agreed. He checked his watch. “Shit, I gotta go. I’ll check in with you later, okay? Peace out, Brodinsons.”

“Peace out,” Thor echoed, ignoring the look Loki gave him. He pressed a button to end the call and Tony’s image abruptly disappeared. The computer screen went dark.

For several moments, they were both silent, absorbing the implications of Tony’s call.

It seemed like a win. Ross relenting on the terms of Loki’s release, even slightly, meant that he had the ability to be swayed when it came to the Asgardians and to Loki himself. That was certainly no small thing. It was something they could work to their advantage, should they need to.

Yet, Loki wasn’t entirely stupid. He knew well enough by now that Ross wouldn’t give an inch without throwing in a mile of his own. Loki’s skin crawled at the thought of being surrounded by heavily armed guards at all times. Watching him. _Waiting_ for him to make one wrong move - or for them to _perceive_ he made one wrong move.

Loki wasn’t afraid of the humans’ weapons, but he _was_ afraid - _wary,_ not afraid (or maybe, yes, _afraid_ ) - of being returned to the Raft.

He snuck a glance at Thor, but his brother’s face revealed nothing. He was frowning, his brow furrowed, but Loki could not tell if it was anxiety, or resignation, or any other of the myriad of emotions Thor could possibly be feeling. He noted, not for the first time and not without a sharp pang of bitterness, that Thor was much better at shielding his emotions from Loki. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it anymore, in fact.

Was it because, after everything, Thor _still_ didn’t trust Loki?

It must be.

Loki swallowed hard. He pushed the thought away, back down into that dark space inside of him where the rest of his worries and fears lay. “Brodinsons?” he finally said, breaking the silence.

Thor blinked and glanced up. It seemed to take him a moment to realize what Loki said, and then he grinned. “Oh. Yeah. Tony calls us that. You know … because we’re brothers - bros - and, uh, sons of Odin. Hence,  _Brodinsons._ ”

Loki pressed his fingers to his temples. Did Tony Stark have nothing better to do than come up with ridiculous nicknames? Loki felt like his intelligence had just suffered simply for listening to that explanation. 

With an irritated noise, Loki got to his feet and began to pace. Thor’s room was large enough for two bay windows along one side, which allowed sunlight to spill into the room. Loki went over to one of the windows and looked out over the front yard.

He hadn’t looked at his phone recently, so he did not know if it was still October, but it seemed that there were far more bare trees now than there had been when he’d first arrived in New Asgard. The colorful leaves that had littered the grass and the sidewalks had mostly faded to brown.

Why wasn’t Thor saying anything?

Loki turned his back on the window. Thor was still sitting in his chair, and had begun gnawing at his thumbnail. Despite the nervous gesture, his face still gave away nothing. Loki pressed his own thumbnail into his palm, applying pressure as he slid the nail back and forth along his skin.

“Would you _say_ something?” he finally asked.

Thor glanced up at him. “What?”

“ _What_ , what?” Loki gestured at him, aggravated. “You’re just sitting there, like … I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

Thor tilted his head, something that might have been a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And you don’t like that.”

Loki huffed. “It makes me nervous.”

Thor did smile, then, and something about it set Loki’s irritation soaring. Thor looked _amused,_ like it was just the funniest goddamn thing in the world that his lack of visible emotion annoyed his normally perceptive little brother.

Loki glared back at him and Thor lifted his hands, as if in surrender.

“I’m not trying to make you nervous, brother,” he said. “Truly. I was thinking that I’m not sure I like that Ross plans to send extra security to hover around. It feels like he’s looking for an excuse - any excuse - to send you back to the Raft.”

Loki’s hands went together again. This time, he pressed all of his nails into his palm and dug. “I was thinking that, too,” he admitted. “Tony said they’re there to make sure I’m not a threat. I don’t even know what that means - what the humans will consider _threatening._ ” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. It was exhausting, being treated like a perpetual villain, shrouded in distrust and suspicion.

Thor wasn’t smiling anymore. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded his younger brother. “You know they can’t hurt you,” he pointed out.

Loki scoffed, giving Thor his _are you a total idiot?_ look. “No. Not physically,” he agreed. “It doesn’t matter. They’re going to be _watching_ me, all the time, and I can say the wrong thing at the wrong time, and there I go, back into the Raft. No releases this time.”

“You won’t go without a fight, though,” Thor reminded him. He sounded exhausted, too. “ _That’s_ what I’m worried about. And, to be honest, I won’t let them take you without a fight, either.”

“Doesn’t bode well for our mortal friends,” Loki said dryly, his tone making it very clear that he did not consider the mortals friends at all. Yet, he had a point. “If a fight breaks out, people could get hurt. Like Jane. And on whose shoulders will those casualties fall?”

Before Thor could respond, Loki made a dramatic show of pointing both of his thumbs at himself. “That’s right. Loki, the always-villain.” He smiled, showing teeth. There was no cheer in it.

Thor pushed his hands through his cropped hair as Loki went back to digging his fingernails into his palm. “We’re getting completely ahead of ourselves,” Thor told him. “We can’t assume the worst.”

“We can’t _not_ assume the worst,” Loki retorted.

Thor exhaled through his nose. “Look. Ross will send his guys to the compound, but Tony doesn’t have to let them into the work space. Right? They can stand guard on the grounds, while you work inside. Out of view. That way, they won’t be watching you all the time and they can’t accuse you of threatening behavior.”

Loki scoffed a little. “I don’t think Ross will go for that.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Thor snapped, sounding more like Tony Stark than ever. “If he wants a Bifrost, this is our compromise. His guards will secure the compound, make sure no Chitauri or other ghastly things come flying through any portals. You’ll work with your team, exactly as we planned. Everyone gets what they want.”

There’s a logic in it that Loki can’t deny, but his anxiety doesn’t ease. “Ross doesn’t. What _he_ wants is to see me back in the Raft.”

“He’s going to be waiting for that for a long time, then,” Thor said. He rubbed the back of his neck, some of the defiance going out of him as his shoulders slumped. A moment later, he glanced at Loki. His eyes widened as if he were seeing Loki for the first time.

“Loki!” Thor sprang to his feet and closed the distance between them, grabbing Loki’s hand.

“What?” Loki snapped, trying to snatch his hand back.

“Look.” Thor turned Loki’s hand over so that Loki could see that he’d been steadily digging grooves into his palm and had long ago broken the skin without noticing. As if he’d been rubbing razorblades against it. Most of Loki’s palm was covered in blood, as well as the tips of his fingers on the other hand.

Loki blinked down at the injury. He didn’t feel it at all. “Oh.”

Thor dropped Loki’s hand, making an irritated sound at the back of his throat. “Loki, Loki,” he said, soothing despite his annoyance. He cupped both sides of Loki’s face in his hands, forcing Loki to look at him. Loki’s eyes went wide as Thor pulled him close, touching his forehead to Loki’s once before he drew back enough to speak.

“Brother. I promise you, everything will be fine. Okay? I _promise_.” The low rumble of Thor’s voice, so close to Loki’s ears, made something inside of Loki relax, like his constricted chest was loosening up again. 

Thor had not let go of Loki’s face, and as Loki looked back at his brother, he suddenly felt the weight of a thousand years of memory pressing down on him. Thor, always comforting Loki when Loki was hurt or scared. Protecting Loki. Promising Loki his safety.

It was so easy to make promises, and so easy for the words to be forgotten just as quickly. Thor’s gaze was earnest and Loki knew that Thor truly believed that either everything would be fine or he would simply _make_ it so.

Loki loved him and hated him at the same time, for his naive idealism. Such a trait was foolish for a king.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, brother,” Loki finally murmured.

“I never do,” Thor replied. His gaze searched Loki’s for a moment longer before he finally released Loki’s face and stepped back. “Come on,” he added. He reached for Loki’s bloodied hand. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”

“No need,” Loki said as he gently pulled his hand back from Thor’s grasp. He waved his opposite hand over the injury. A green-gold shimmer rolled over his skin and then it was like nothing had ever happened. The blood had vanished, Loki’s skin clean and unbroken. “See?”  

Thor’s lips quirked a bit as he shook his head. “If only everything were that easy,” he said quietly.

Loki couldn’t disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's still out there, thanks for bearing with me. Comments make my soul sing. Say hi to me on tumblr at [@iamanartichoke!](https://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/)


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